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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791223">How to Make Friends When You Want To Be Left Alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetreadsstuff/pseuds/jetreadsstuff'>jetreadsstuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Homestuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chronic Illness, F/F, Minor Meenah Peixes/Vriska Serket, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Support Group, extreme catharsis, idiots to lovers, minor aradia megido/vriska serket, real world AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:07:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetreadsstuff/pseuds/jetreadsstuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Terezi swears that she's fine. She doesn't talk about her issues, not even to her best friends, but it's fine. The only support group in town for people with chronic illnesses and disabilities is run with a positively sickening attitude of everything happens for a reason. Terezi can't stand it. She swears that she's fine, but really, she's not. And Rose knows that she's not, and that's when an idea comes in. Bitching about their problems, honest conversations about day to day life, no higher power nonsense, and tons of snacks. All in the middle of Terezi's living room. Terezi is reluctant to participate at first, but soon she finds there's a few benefits to having a shoulder to cry on. Or six.<br/>Then there's Vriska, a foul-mouthed girl with a bad attitude who hates most things and people. She finds herself, however, not hating these people.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Terezi Pyrope/Vriska Serket</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Kicking and Screaming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, I just want to say before you read this thing that I wrote this as someone who deals with chronic pain out of spite and frustration with the way the majority of media portrays people with disabilities and chronic illnesses. This work is dedicated to anyone else who's had the same frustration. On a lighter note HAPPY FUCKING VRISKA DAY MY ID EXPIRED TODAY WHICH MEANS IM ABOVE THE LAW. THIS FIC IS PURE UNADULTERATED CATHARSIS. IF YOU LIKE IT YOU OWE ME 800 DOLLARS&lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It occurs to Terezi as she gets dressed that this is extremely fucking stupid and she doesn’t want to do it. Not the getting dressed, but the other incredibly stupid thing she has to do today.</p><p>“You’re standing in there thinking about how much you don’t want to do this, aren’t you?” Dave asks through the door.</p><p>“No,” Terezi lies, “I’m getting dressed. Fuck off!”</p><p>“Look, I don’t want to do this either. The coffee is shitty, the donuts are stale, Sollux constantly tells us to find the higher power-”</p><p>“You’re doing an excellent job,” Terezi feels around to make sure that the cables to her LVAD are safely intact and looped through the belt buckles on her jeans. She slips on her shoes, grips her cane, and stands. There’s nothing she wants to do more right now than to flip on the TV and listen to Judge Judy. There’s nothing she wants to do less than do this meeting. It seems there’s an easy solution in the midst. </p><p>But this is important to Rose. So though bitch and moan Terezi could-make no mistake, she <em> will </em>-she still knows this is the least awkward way to deal with her best friend catching her having a complete meltdown last week about the problems that Terezi has been very gracefully keeping wraps over for the past several years.</p><p>It’s not like this is the first meeting that she’s been to. Not first <em> ever. </em>She has gone once or twice, dragged kicking and screaming into just about the last place Terezi wants to be. She has hated it every last time. So she doesn't know why Rose thinks that if Terezi hated it then, why would it be different now? </p><p>Whatever, she thinks as she pushes open the door, her dog scratching at the other side. She's survived before. She'll survive now. But holy fuck if she doesn't want to go. </p><p>"I hate this too, you know,'' Rose announces as if she can see into Terezi's thoughts.</p><p>"Then why are we <em> going?" </em>Terezi asks as Dave hands her the bright red leather jacket that Terezi fancies.</p><p>"We're going because dealing with your problems with people who know what it's like to deal with them is better than dealing alone," Dave answers. It's becoming clear to Terezi that everyone else is as miserable in that place as she is. </p><p>"You've got any other greeting card sayings?" Terezi asks.</p><p>"No. Pie is already in his harness by the way," Dave says.</p><p>"Pie?" Rose raises an eyebrow.</p><p>"It's his stupid nickname for Pyralspite," Terezi explains.</p><p>"Which I only have because saying Pyralspite in response to what's your dog's name she's so cute was getting old," Dave retorts.</p><p>"Interesting that naming your dog something incredibly stupid after a cartoon dragon would spark Dave to try and out-stupid you."</p><p>"Asshole," Terezi shakes her head with a grin. </p><p>"We seriously do not have time to just sit around here," Rose points out. We've got to go. Like, now."</p><p>"Fine," Terezi says. How bad can it possibly be?</p><hr/><p>Sollux starts the meeting by everyone holding hands and chanting and Dave barely has the drive to hold her back from whacking Sollux with her cane. He mulls over letting her next time. When everyone sits back down, they actually begin. </p><p>"I've noticed some new faces in the crowd today," Sollux says. Oh god, thinks Terezi, "So we're gonna go around the circle, say our first name, our condition, and one fun fact about us.”</p><p>He clicks and unclicks his pen with enough speed and volume to make a strong case that murdering him now would be an act of self-defense. </p><p>“I’ll start. My name is Sollux, I live with melanoma, and I program computers in my spare time,” he says. Terezi silently thanks and curses her friends for picking seats so close so it will be over quickly.</p><p>“My name is Dave, I have COPD, and I write music,” Terezi can hear Dave’s leg bounce as he talks.</p><p>“My name is Rose, I also have COPD, and I made this dress I’m wearing,” she silently berates herself for not picking a more interesting fun fact. </p><p>“My name is Rez, I have arrhythmia. I hate public speaking, thanks,” Terezi then mostly zones out, nearly for the entire rest of the time people are introducing themselves, until-</p><p>“My name is Vriska. And I’m not doing this. It’s stupid,” Vriska sounds annoyed, yet she sounds almost giddy to be causing the disturbance.</p><p>“Tell us about yourself, Vriska,” Sollux says.</p><p>“No. Pass,” Vriska says. </p><p>“If you’re embarrassed about whatever it is you have-” Sollux begins.</p><p>“No. Fuck no. But I don’t see why I have to talk about my issues with a crowd of fucking strangers in order to gain whatever the shit inner peace. My name is Vriska. Take it or leave it.”</p><p>“Because,” Sollux sighs, “we want to get to know you. The more you talk about yourself-”</p><p>“I’m not going to. Get over it. Move on,” Vriska puts her foot down. A beat of silence follows.</p><p>“Hi I’m-” a random voice says.</p><p>“Vriska, if you’re not going to participate in the group, please leave,” Sollux says.</p><p>“I’m Vriska, I’ve got pissed as fuck disorder, and I was just leaving anyway,” Vriska stands to leave. She walks out.</p><p>“Oh, we have <em> got </em>to meet this bitch,” Rose announces with a grin.</p><p>“Any time you say we’ve got to do anything it goes wrong like immediately and dramatically,” Dave protests.</p><p>“That’s generally the mark of a good idea in this group, yes,” Terezi agrees.</p><p>Vriska walks back into the group, probably remembering a prior agreement much like Terezi made.</p><p>“My name is Vriska. I have lupus and fibromyalgia. I still think this is stupid, but I need to kill an hour,” she says. Sollux stares at her, jaw sort of slack. It’s the most incredible display Terezi has ever heard. Sollux clears his throat.</p><p>“Okay. Who’s next?” Sollux asks.</p><hr/><p>During share circle, the three get up and go get coffee, perhaps a little faster than usual because Terezi is practically running and they’re afraid she’ll trip over Pyralspite. </p><p>“What the hell was all that higher power stuff. I know you guys are as annoyed as I am about this. Or probably even more,” Terezi drums her fingers on the desk, “will one of you make me coffee? This thing is like a fucking rubicks cube, I remember that much.”</p><p>“Sure,” Dave springs into action in an aloof fashion.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s incredibly fucking annoying,” Rose agrees, “but, you know, it’s a thing. They try to act like they don’t care what you believe, but we all know what they mean when they say higher power. It makes me so uncomfortable.”</p><p>“So why do you come here?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Because misery loves company,” Vriska says from behind them. They all three turn around to face her.</p><p>“You’re that chick who stormed out right in the middle, right?” Terezi asks, leaning against the counter, “And then, presumably realizing nobody cared enough to chase you down, you came back.”</p><p>“Yes,” Vriska scoffs, “I suppose you’re the chick who can’t mind her damn business.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right, girl who inserted herself into this conversation,” Terezi grins smugly. </p><p>“Good observation. Now move so I can get to the coffee,” Vriska commands, and Terezi moves, not because of Vriska, she tells herself, but because the corner of the counter has been stabbing into her butt cheek.</p><p>“Well, thanks for ensuring something interesting happened in this fucking group for once,” Rose says.</p><p>“Whatever,” Vriska shrugs, “for what it’s worth though, I do agree with you. This place fucking sucks, but it’s not like we have much of a choice. This is one of the only groups in town and the others all follow the same Christian you were given this disease for a reason horse shit.”</p><p>“Well, we haven’t seen you around,” Dave says, “how did you manage before?”</p><p>“Poorly,” Vriska answers, not looking up, “to answer your earlier question, Rez, we come here because the choice in company is between people who don’t get it and either pity you or see you as a burden or come here and drink the shitty coffee and listen to people who get it in all the worst ways possible.”</p><p>“She has a point,” Rose agrees, “finding community in this way does suck absolute ass, but it’s better than nothing.”</p><p>“Barely,” Dave says, handing Terezi her coffee. </p><p>“Well, she’s a pretentious know it all,” Terezi says.</p><p>“I’m still here!” Vriska says.</p><p>“Yes, I was hoping so,” Terezi grins. She hears Vriska walk away.</p><p>“Making friends as always, Terezi,” Rose shakes her head.</p><p>“Shut up. I’ve earned my rights to bitch,” Terezi protests.</p><p>“You always think you have earned the rights to bitch,” Rose points out.</p><p>“And I have, but especially now. Today’s group has been fucking ridiculous. Sollux without a doubt is the most obnoxious individual person I’ve interacted with today, which is saying something considering everyone else in the goddamn room. And  Vriska is climbing the rank at the speed of the American Ninja Warrior. Not to mention any given time if Rose isn’t at least sixth most annoying we have a horrible fucking problem on our hands,” Terezi rants.</p><p>“Terezi,” Rose sighs, but she can’t think of a response. And then they go back to group.</p><hr/><p>“I’m not going back there,” Terezi says the second the door to their apartment is swung open, “you cannot make me, and I will bite you.”</p><p>“I believe you,” Dave says, “please do not bite me. Not again.”</p><p>“Well, you’re right. We can’t make you go back,” Rose says, “I give up. You’re on your own.”</p><p>“Oh no! However will I manage now that you’ve given me this thing that I want,” Terezi unclips Pyralspite’s harness.</p><p>“Terezi,” Rose sighs. There’s nothing to say. That’s the worst thing, that Rose agrees with her.</p><p>“I’m gonna take a shower, make some popcorn, and try to use bad movies to forget any of that ever happened,” Terezi announces.</p><p>“Great,” Rose says.</p><p>“And I’m gonna burn that pamphlet they gave me,” she adds.</p><p>“Okay,” Rose raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“We don’t have a fireplace,” Dave points out.</p><p>“One will be made,” Terezi says, “one. Will. Be. Made.”</p><p>“Was Rezi this out of her mind when you two were going out?” Dave asks.</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, Dave. The madness of Terezi Pyrope is not so easily blamed on one thing. She is, will be and always has been out of her mind and we are merely observers assigned by a malicious god to watch her spiral out of control,” Rose replies.</p><p>“What the fuck are you going on about, Rose?”</p><p>“Hm, I’ve changed my mind,” Rose squints, “I think having a quote-unquote crush on you removed the part of her brain that allowed her to think critically about her actions.”</p><p>“Maybe dating you and having to hear you talk like that all the time made her brain fall straight out of the back of her head,” Dave retorts.</p><p>“Guys, I am well within earshot,” Terezi announces from the kitchen, “and you are also shouting.”</p><p>“Oh fuck,” Rose says.</p><p>“I’m going to my room. If you need me, don’t,” Terezi grins as she slams the door.</p><p>“Maybe she’s right,” Dave says.</p><p>“Of course she is. That’s why I’m so annoyed,” Rose explains, “I just wish there was a way to get her to, you know, open up.”</p><p>“This coming from Queen shut up and leave me alone,” Dave points out.</p><p>“You know what I mean, though,” she continues, “it’s not good for her to keep everything bottled up on the inside all the time. That, I recall, is what prompted her to start drinking.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” he folds his arms, “I’m a little worried about that, too. But she will bite us if we try to get her to go again.”</p><p>“That much I’m aware of.”</p><p>“She wouldn’t go to a meeting if it was in our goddamn apartment,” he adds.</p><p>“Yeah,” Rose agrees, and then sort of freezes, “wait.”</p><p>“Wait what?” Dave’s eyebrows rise from behind his sunglasses.</p><p>“Dave, you’re a genius!” she says, and then she walks away.</p><p>“Thanks,” Dave says, frowns, and adds, “wait, what did I do?”</p><p>She doesn’t answer, so he follows her into her room.</p><p>“Rose, what did I do?” he repeats.</p><hr/><p>“Remind me why I’m here, again?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“We need groceries to continue being alive, Vriska,” Aradia doesn’t look up from her list.</p><p>“Well, that answers why <em> you’re </em>here,” Vriska says.</p><p>“I need to teach you how to do this stuff,” Aradia replies, “get that can off the top shelf.”</p><p>“This is the same thing down here,” Vriska points out, “and it’s less expensive.”</p><p>“Yes, but it’s also smaller. By serving size, the bigger can is cheaper,” Aradia explains.</p><p>“Whatever,” Vriska reaches for the can and tosses it in the cart.</p><p>“You need to figure out how to do this kind of math,” Aradia continues.</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“It’s important that after I-”</p><p>“Don’t say it,” Vriska tells her, “you know you’re not allowed.”</p><p>There is a beat where the only sound is the other carts moving across the floor and the shitty music that plays overhead.</p><p>“We have to be able to talk about it, Vris,” Aradia finally says.</p><p>“I’m not having this discussion in a fucking grocery store,” Vriska stands firm, but her voice falters.</p><p>“You won’t have it at home,” Aradia points out, “we have to talk about it sometime. Why not here?”</p><p>Vriska does not answer at first.</p><p>“It’s not that we can’t talk about it. It’s that I don’t like doing it. You know what’s going on, I know what’s going on. That’s it,” Vriska reasons.</p><p>“That is not how it works, dipshit, and you know it,” Aradia tilts her head, “everything is going to be fine. Me moving in with my sister is not the end of the world, you know.”</p><p>“It is, though,” Vriska speaks much quieter than she is prone to, “it is to me.”</p><p>Aradia hesitates.</p><p>“Hey, we should get ice cream. The kind you like,” Aradia says.</p><p>“You mean the kind I’m not supposed to have,” Vriska corrects.</p><p>“Be that as it may,” Aradia shrugs. </p><p>“Sure,” Vriska sighs, “<em> your </em> decision.”</p><p>“Okay, what’s with that tone?” Aradia asks.</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Vriska avoids eye contact.</p><p>“Who’s the one talking about it now, hm?” Aradia is much smugger than she should be given the circumstances.</p><p>“Fuck off,” Vriska says.</p><p>“I tried to move on with the trip and get ice cream,” Aradia sighs.</p><p>“Yeah, but it’s in my head now. I hate it when you do that.”</p><p>“Do what?” Aradia asks, looking as innocent as humanly possible.</p><p>“Aradia.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Megido.”</p><p>“That would be my name.”</p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p>“You keep saying that. It has never once worked.”</p><p>“I’m persistent,” Vriska says.</p><p>“We can talk about something else you’re avoiding,” Aradia suggests, “like that outburst at the group.”</p><p>“It wasn’t an outburst,” Vriska protests, “and you really are incapable of small talk, aren’t you?”</p><p>“I am,” Aradia answers, “anyway, Sollux told me what happened.”</p><p>“That little snitch,” Vriska grits her teeth.</p><p>“You came back almost right away, he said.”</p><p>“I don’t know why you talk to him. He’s the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” Vriska’s grip on the cart tightens.</p><p>“Eridan,” Aradia points out.</p><p>“Fine. Second most-”</p><p>“Fef.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Tavros,” Aradia continues.</p><p>“The point is that he’s pretty damn fucking annoying,” Vriska squints, “you complete little shit.”</p><p>“He is.”</p><p>“So why?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“Because he’s my oldest friend,” Aradia explains.</p><p>“Hey!” Vriska protests.</p><p>“Okay, I met you first,” Aradia admits, “we hated each other, though.”</p><p>“Hm,” Vriska responds.</p><p>“Anyway…” Aradia gestures.</p><p>“I didn’t want to go,” Vriska reminds her, “I went because I had an hour to kill waiting for someone to get out of the hospital.”</p><p>“Right,” Aradia responds robotically, “you’re correct. How selfish could I be? Getting a routine test done,”</p><p>“Shut up,” Vriska tells her, but there is no bite to it.</p><p>“Vriska,” Aradia sighs.</p><p>“If you’re going to start talking about it again-”</p><p>“You don’t have to say anything. I just have stuff that I need to go over with you,” Aradia interrupts, “I need you to listen. Can you do that? For me?”</p><p>Vriska doesn’t agree. Instead, she grumbles something and leans against the shelf.</p><p>“Remember bus tickets are fifty cents. You have a bus pass, but remember to renew it when it expires at the end of the season. Your grocery budget by yourself is fifty dollars a week, which should be plenty. The special ice cream no more than once a month-”</p><p>“You’re acting like I’ve never lived on my own,” Vriska says.</p><p>“You have,” Aradia tilts her head, “but before we lived together you weren’t doing so great.”</p><p>“Hm,” it’s not that Vriska doesn’t think that’s true. She just doesn’t like to be babied. She can take care of herself.</p><p>“I’ve started the search for a new roommate,” Aradia continues, “I think it’s going to be a bit before I find someone who can tolerate you-”</p><p>“That’s not funny,” Vriska snaps.</p><p>“It wasn’t supposed to be. Vriska, I love you, but you’re a pain in the ass. You know that.”</p><p>“Right, and I’m so lucky you pitied me enough to be my friend,” Vriska is trying her hardest to sound insincere.</p><p>“That’s not what I meant,” Aradia puts down her list, “and why do you keep doing that?”</p><p>“Doing what?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“Picking fights.”</p><p>“I always pick fights,” Vriska points out.</p><p>“But it’s different,” Aradia says, “it’s like you want me to leave, but you want me to feel guilty about it.”</p><p>“That is literally the opposite of the way I feel, jackass,” Vriska shoots her friend a glare, “of course I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to feel, like, obligated.”</p><p>“I don’t feel obligated,” Aradia assures her, and Vriska ignores that it stings a little, “I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.”</p><p>“Why are you trying so hard?” Vriska asks, “I’m fine on my own.”</p><p>“Damn it, Vriska,” Aradia stares at the ceiling, “you’re impossible. When people are nice to you, they’re not generally trying to trick or manipulate you.”</p><p>“I know,” Vriska’s spine stiffens, “thanks, I guess.”</p><p>“You’re welcome,” Aradia limply responds.</p><p>“I’m never going to be okay with this,” Vriska says.</p><p>“Okay,” Aradia nods.</p><p>“But I’m not mad at you.”</p><p>“I know, Vriska,” Aradia turns around, “you shouldn’t be mad at yourself, though.”</p><p>“What?” Vriska freezes.</p><p>“It’s not your fault.”<br/>“Stop,” Vriska commands.</p><p>“You can’t take care of me. Not the way you are now,” Aradia frowns, “I’m getting worse. Damara says there are doctors in the city that can help me. Then you won’t have to stress out about me all the time. Things are going to get better. And if you’re looking for reasons to sulk, that’s fine. But this is for the better, so don’t start acting like not being able to take care of me is some horrible thing you did, because it’s really not.”<br/>Vriska doesn’t answer.</p><p>“So, I ask again, ice cream?”</p><p>“Ice cream,” Vriska nods, looking away.</p><hr/><p>“Okay. Find any set of three black keys. The white key right to the middle black key is gonna be your A key. This works for any set,” Terezi instructs.</p><p>The student presses the A-flat.</p><p>“No. The white key to the right,” Terezi says.</p><p>“Like this?” she asks.</p><p>“Perfect,” Terezi answers.</p><p>“Hey,” Rose interrupts, “we’re on our way out.”</p><p>“Sounds good,” Terezi says, not entirely sure what she means by that.</p><p>“Can we talk to you for a second before we leave?” Dave asks.</p><p>“I’m with a student,” Terezi protests.</p><p>“I’m Anna,” she greets.</p><p>“I play piano, I can fill in for a minute,” Rose volunteers. Terezi scowls in Rose’s general direction and stands. She walks into the kitchen with Dave and closes the door.</p><p>“What?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Well, this is one way to make sure we stay off your case about going,” he says.</p><p>“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Terezi lies.</p><p>“Putting a lesson by itself in the middle of the day,” Dave points out, “you’re not subtle.”</p><p>“Dave-”</p><p>“You may as well have peed all over this time of day,” Dave continues.</p><p>“I get it,” Terezi waves a hand.</p><p>“I came in here to tell you that this is gonna be our last meeting,” she can hear Dave tapping his nails along the counter.</p><p>“Really?” Terezi’s eyebrows raise.</p><p>“It’s not like we haven’t considered it before,” he says, “it’s just hard, you know. The community thing is the only thing that keeps me and Rose from going completely nuts.”</p><p>“You guys don’t generally seem like people who would voluntarily enter a cult for little more payment than catharsis and shitty coffee-”</p><p>“Terezi,” Dave interrupts.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Terezi,” Dave repeats.</p><p>“That’s my name.”</p><p>“Rez.”</p><p>“Fuck’s sake, get on with it!”</p><p>“For once in your life. I beg you to shut the fuck up.”</p><p>Terezi almost manages another sarcastic reply, but she hears Rose hitting a sour note and swearing from the other room just in time to clamp her jaw shut.</p><p>“Okay. So the Christian focused higher power thing is not our style. Obviously,” he pauses, “but getting together. Complaining about our problems. Having snacks. We like that.”</p><p>“Who wouldn’t?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Well. Rose saw you crying again the other night.”</p><p>“I know that. Hence the five-thirty Wednesday piano lesson,” Terezi explains.</p><p>“And she had an idea. When we got back last time.”</p><p>“Uh oh,” Terezi perks up.</p><p>“I mean, I guess that I had the idea. I didn’t mean to.”</p><p>“Dave, what are you saying?” Terezi asks, desperate not to scream in the presence of a client.</p><p>“She wants to start holding meetings here,” he says, “Wednesday nights, eight o'clock,” he explains.</p><p>“No,” she answers.</p><p>“Terezi.”</p><p>“No,” she repeats.</p><p>“You don’t have to go,” Dave assures her.</p><p>“It’s in my fucking house,” Terezi points out, “and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really go places by myself at night.”</p><p>“You can stay in your room,” he suggests. </p><p>“Dave,” she protests. But she doesn’t really know why it is she’s fighting this so hard. So she just says his name.</p><p>“This is really important to me and Rose,” he says, “but we’re not gonna do it if you’re not okay with it.”</p><p>Terezi sighs, decides it’s not dramatic enough, and sighs again.</p><p>“Fine,” she says, “I’m gonna bitch about it, though. A lot.”</p><p>“We’re counting on it,” Dave says, and then leaves.</p><hr/><p>Dave and Rose gave fliers to everyone they’ve ever noticed rolling their eyes or scoffing at the insufferability of Sollux. His meeting is at six on Wednesdays, theirs is at eight, giving plenty of people the room to go to both in case they want their brains to melt out of their ears.</p><p>When the time arrives, only a few people show up. This is to be expected. Terezi is disappointed to find that one of those people is Vriska.</p><p>“Ugh,” Terezi greets. </p><p>“Nice to see you too,” Vriska says, and steps inside, “are we starting yet?” </p><p>“We’re about to,” Rose answers, setting out donut boxes. Not cheap, cardboard tasting donuts but good ones from the bakery down the way. One box is gluten-free, one is vegan, one is sugar-free. They’re all labeled in Rose’s cute handwriting. </p><p>“That would be my cue to leave,” Terezi says.</p><p>“Whatever,” Rose sits down in the recliner that faces away from the television. Terezi makes a mental note to bitch about Rose eating a donut in <em> her </em>chair.</p><p>The others find their seats, which are much more comfortable than the metal ones at group, and Rose sees fit to begin.</p><p>“Welcome, everyone. I’m Rose, this is my brother, Dave,” she sees him absentmindedly tugging at his oxygen tubes and slaps his hand away, “I’ve seen you all around at group, so there’s really not a need to introduce yourself. You can, however, if you want to.”</p><p>Terezi shuts the door to her bedroom and pulls out her headphones. That is quite enough of that. Pyralspite curls up on her bed, and Terezi follows suit. She downloaded quite a bit of music for this occasion. Dave even made her a playlist. It starts, of course, with one of his remixes. </p><p>Soon enough, she settles in. One hand in the chip bag, one hand on her dog. It’s the picture of good alone time. And Terezi decides that this isn’t so bad, that she could tolerate this once a week.</p><p>That’s when her headphones start beeping. She sits up. She charged them. She knows she did. Or, shit, no. No she did not. And her charger is in the living room. Terezi groans, feels around for her cane, and stands up., </p><p>She nearly has her hand around the doorknob when the disadvantages of taking the room closest to the living room see fit to show themselves.</p><p>“And you know, I guess it should occur to me that these people are trying to help. It gets better is a useful phrase in some contexts, but this isn’t fuckin’ one of them,” a voice says. </p><p>Terezi recognizes the voice instantly as Vriska’s. It’s raspy and low in a way that might make Terezi swoon if she didn’t already know it belongs to the most obnoxious person alive.</p><p>“Because people think it’s what we want to hear. But it isn’t. It’s fucking depressing,” Vriska says, “there’s recovery out there for some of us, but for a lot of us-look, okay, take me for example. I’m in a lot of pain a lot of the time. That isn’t going to get better with age. It’s gonna get <em> worse. </em>I don’t want to hear it gets better because it’s not fucking going to. I want to figure out how to be, you know, okay. In spite of that, I mean.”</p><p>Terezi decides this is too much reality for her. She elects to, instead of heading into the crossfires in search of her charger, take a nap.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It's getting heavy heavy<br/>Telling everybody that I'm fine<br/>I'm feeling heavy heavy does it mean<br/>I wanna fucking die?</p><p>-Heavy Heavy by Pom Pom Squad</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Having Conversations When You Hate Everything You Say</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Terezi is developing a Wednesday night routine. She goes out, she gets her food, she hides in her room. She bought an extra charger specifically for her bed room so that she’s not trapped in there when her headphones die. </p><p>She doesn’t always wear her headphones throughout the evening. Sometimes she takes them off just for a few minutes to listen. It can’t hurt. Sometimes they cry. It’s worse when they laugh, and Terezi can’t articulate why that is.</p><p>Terezi waits for the apartment to clear and walks out into the living room. She notices that lately, Vriska has been hanging around. She doesn’t know why Vriska would do that. Maybe it’s because Dave is too nice to tell her to get the fuck out. </p><p>“Why do you let her stick around?” she asks one night while cleaning the apartment up.</p><p>“She’s not so bad,” Dave shrugs.</p><p>“She’s <em> obnoxious,” </em>Terezi corrects.</p><p>“Fine, she’s obnoxious,” Dave doesn’t look up.</p><p>“That doesn’t answer my question,” she presses, “why do you let her stick around.”</p><p>“She doesn’t like going back to her place right now. She’s in a really rough spot,” Dave explains, “you know that Aradia girl?”</p><p>Terezi nods.</p><p>“The reason she stopped coming is she moved away,” Dave continues.</p><p>“That’s worth hearing her lame jokes and insulting everyone constantly?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Sometimes people who are mean do that because they don’t want people to get close to them,” Dave says, “Rose is like that. <em> You </em>can be like that. It doesn’t mean you stop trying. You try harder.”</p><p>“You’re too nice.”</p><p>“Maybe I am,” Dave sighs, “I think you’d like her if you gave her a chance.”</p><p>“I think you would like battery acid if you gave it a chance,” Terezi retorts, “look. I’m not going to be her friend. She can come to the meetings, but that doesn’t mean that we’re gonna be joined at the hip exactly.”</p><p>“You’re my best friend and I love you,” he says, as if that’s any sort of argument. </p><p>“I knew that,” she says, a little snippier than she means to, “I just mean why is it our problem that her roommate moved away?”</p><p>“She doesn’t like to go home right now. I know something about that,” he answers.</p><p>That shuts her up. She doesn’t ask about Vriska again.</p><p>She sort of hates him for how nice he is sometimes. Once or twice the thought has crossed Terezi’s mind that Dave is just a better person than her. Sometimes she’s jealous of him, the way that he seems to navigate the world and make friends without even trying. How does he do that? The thought keeps her up at night.</p><p>Sometimes, though, she’s fucking pissed at him. Pissed like she’s never been at anyone. She says bitchy things to provoke him sometimes and he’s entirely too understanding. She doesn’t know why she feels the need to do that. She doesn’t know why she needs to get a response out of him. He’s too good for her. She tries to scare him away for that. But Dave is not the kind of person who can be scared away.</p><p>She’s been rude lately. She tells herself it’s not because of the group, and she tells herself that it is because of the group. Neither answer is satisfactory to Terezi, so she resolves not to let herself think about it. And she won’t hide in her room after the meetings. It’s like letting Vriska win.</p><p>So, one night, she comes out of her room while people are leaving, asks how it was, tries to sound sincere, miserably fails. </p><p>“Would you mind cleaning up the kitchen?” Rose asks.</p><p>“Why not,” Terezi shrugs. </p><p>She notices right away that Vriska is in the kitchen. The sound of her earbuds blasting too loud music buzzes in Terezi’s jaw.</p><p>“You’re gonna give yourself tinnitus, you know,” Terezi greets.</p><p>“What?” Vriska takes one earbud out.</p><p>“I said you’re going to give yourself tinnitus,” Terezi finds her way to the kitchen towels.</p><p>“Whatever, Mom,” Vriska says, but takes out the earbuds anyway, “what’s the warden say?”</p><p>“I have to clean the kitchen,” Terezi replies, wetting the towel under the sink.</p><p>“I can help,” Vriska offers, but the tone in her voice makes it sound like she’s already mentally rewarded herself for the task.</p><p>“Sure. Do the dishes,” Terezi instructs her.</p><p>“I can’t do that,” Vriska says.</p><p>“What the hell do you mean. You just said that you would help,” Terezi points out.</p><p>“I know what I said, asshole. But I can’t do that one,” Vriska drums her fingers on the counter.</p><p>“What, are your hands tied behind your back, or something?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Bad choice of words,” Vriska flinches.</p><p>“Look,” Terezi huffs, “you’re gonna hang out at my apartment, you’re gonna eat my food and pet my dog, the least you could do is lend-”</p><p>“If you say lend a hand, I swear to god I will lay your ass out,” Vriska cuts her off.</p><p>“Why?” Terezi asks. Vriska pauses.</p><p>“Do you seriously not know or are you being a dick on purpose?” Vriska pretends she won’t be annoyed by either answer.</p><p>“What?” Terezi repeats.</p><p>“Terezi, I only have one arm,” Vriska explains. At first, because Vriska is an asshole, Terezi thinks it’s a joke.</p><p>“That’s not funny,” Terezi blinks.</p><p>“I wasn’t aiming for funny. Look,” without warning, she grabs Terezi’s wrist and places her hand on Vriska’s shoulder. She’s not used to people just grabbing her, except for maybe when they decide she needs their help. It startles her so bad she almost doesn’t have time to consider the fact that Vriska is telling the truth.</p><p>“Huh,” Terezi says, “well. There’s no arm attached to this shoulder.”</p><p>“I’m aware of that,” Vriska says.</p><p>“I thought you were being an asshole,” Terezi adds. It’s a lame excuse for an apology.</p><p>“I thought the same thing about you,” Vriska offers, “you can let go of my shoulder now.”</p><p>“Oh,” Terezi retracts her hand, “will you excuse me for a second?”</p><p>“Uh, whatever,” Vriska answers. Her attempts to sound aloof are downright pathetic. Terezi doesn’t notice. She scrambles out of the kitchen and into the living room.</p><p>“Hello!” she shouts into the room, “Is anybody in here?”</p><p>“Yes,” Dave answers.</p><p>“Why are you screaming?” Rose asks.</p><p>“Because I have something important to ask the both of you,” she says, “at what point, I ask, were you planning on telling me that Vriska only has one arm?”</p><p>“I don’t usually make a habit of gossiping about other people’s disabilities,” Rose answers, “I don’t go around telling everyone my roommate is blind, either.”</p><p>“Well, I’m glad you have your priorities in order like that,” Terezi huffs, “because I just spent the last five minutes in there being utterly mortifying.”</p><p>“Why did it even come up?” Rose asks.</p><p>“I asked her to do the dishes,” Terezi explains.</p><p>“Lazy,” Rose says.</p><p>“How big of an ass did you make of yourself?” Dave chimes in, “For damage control reasons.”</p><p>“She told me she only had one arm and I said that’s not funny,” Terezi is even more mortified by the repetition of these things.</p><p>“Woof,” Dave replies.</p><p>“Super helpful,” Terezi pinches the bridge of her nose, “are there any other things that I should know about this woman so I can avoid embarrassing myself like that again?”</p><p>“Well, she wears an eyepatch,” Rose offers.</p><p>“Bullshit!” Terezi exclaims.</p><p>“It’s true, not that you’re in a position to be speculating on what is or isn’t true about her. She’s blind in one eye. You can ask her yourself,” Rose is acutely aware of how loud they’re being with Vriska in the other room and can’t decide on whether or not she cares. Vriska doesn’t seem like she would.</p><p>“While we’re at it, she’s also Mexican, she’s five foot nine, she-” </p><p>“Dave,” Rose lets out an exasperated sigh.</p><p>“She’s Mexican?” Terezi blinks.</p><p>“Half Mexican actually, on her dad’s side,” Dave explains.</p><p>“How do you know this?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Me and Rose were talking about that thing where we feel like we’re not close enough to our roots and she chimed in with the fact that because her mom is white and she never really knew-” Dave snaps out of it, “why am I telling you this? I’m breaking the rules here.”</p><p>“So we have something to bond over?” Terezi guesses, “whatever. I’ve gotta get back in there.”</p><p>“Yeah, she probably thinks you’ve jumped off the terrace by now,” Dave agrees.</p><p>“Don’t give me ideas,” Terezi says. </p><p>She walks back into the kitchen.</p><p>“Heard you talking,” Vriska greets, “no, I wasn’t born without them, no, I didn’t lose them because of a pre-existing condition, no, I don’t mind you guys talking about it. I would rather you did than tiptoe around it like it doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“Okay,” Terezi says.</p><p>“Okay?” Vriska raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry about being insensitive,” Terezi adds.</p><p>“In your defense, you’re blind,” Vriska points out, “how the fuck were you to know?”</p><p>“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have scoffed when you told me,” Terezi argues.</p><p>“That’s true,” Vriska agrees, “alright. It’s settled. You’ve been an asshole, Penalty of death.”</p><p>Terezi sort of curls inward on herself.</p><p>“Chrissake, I’m kidding,” Vriska rolls her good eye, “I thought you might be able to pick up on sarcasm, given that it’s roughly ninety-percent what comes out of your mouth.”</p><p>“Pro tip,” Terezi inhales, “don’t sarcastically call someone an asshole if they’re actually being one.”</p><p>“Decent pro-tip,” Vriska nods.</p><p>It’s silent. </p><p>“I’ll tell you how it happened,” Vriska says.</p><p>“What?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Come on. You’re wondering,” Vriska presses.</p><p>“I’m not,” Terezi protests. then, after sensing Vriska’s skepticism, “you did say that you weren’t born with it. I wouldn’t have wondered if you didn’t say that.”</p><p>“You would have. You just would have been polite,” Vriska insists.</p><p>“Well, this is me trying to be polite now by not invading your whatever here,” Terezi gestures.</p><p>“Appreciate it,” Vriska says, “even though it’s complete bull.”</p><p>“It’s bull?”</p><p>“That’s what I said,” Vriska shrugs.</p><p>“Look,” Terezi sighs, “I didn’t come in here to argue with you. I came in here because there’s a dishwasher to be unloaded.”</p><p>“What do you do when people ask you?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“Huh?” Terezi is tempted to slap this woman across the face. </p><p>“When people ask you about your shit. What’s your go-to? Are you offended? Angry? Do you brush it off? Aradia always brushes it off and I’ve never really understood that. This is someone who is coming into your life, making a rude comment, and expecting you to be cool with it,” Vriska says, “and she actually is. What the fuck?”</p><p>“People don’t generally ask me about my eyes or my LVAD. I assume people stare but that’s obviously not an issue for me,” Terezi explains.</p><p>“Right. That makes sense, all things considered.”</p><p>Something about her phrasing gets on Terezi's nerves</p><p>“Oh, fuck you.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“We can do this all night, you know. I understand I was an asshole. You already accepted my apology. This is you, what, trying to get revenge? I get it. It’s rude when someone talks about your shit. You don’t have to hold it over my head.”</p><p>“Fuck off. I’m not trying to hold anything over your head. It was a genuine question.”</p><p>“Are you trying to be a goddamn asshole, or is it a natural gift?” Terezi asks. She cannot and will not envision Dave’s statement that Terezi would like her the more she gets to know her. Thus far, the more she gets to know her the more she’s willing to ram her head through a goddamn wall.</p><p>“Can we start over?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“I don’t see why not,” Terezi folds her arms.</p><p>“I’m not trying to be rude. I have trouble discerning whether something is a rude thing to say or not,” Vriska explains.</p><p>“I thought we were starting over,” Terezi says.</p><p>“I’m trying to apologize!” Vriska huffs, “I brought your shit into this. I shouldn’t have.”</p><p>Terezi is a bit taken aback.</p><p>“No worries,” Terezi assures her, mulling over whether or not she actually feels like there shouldn’t be.</p><p>“I just can’t stand the feeling of people looking at me going oh, I wonder what happened to her arm. If you’re seriously not even the slightest bit curious, cool. But if you want to know, I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. I’d rather that.”</p><p>Terezi considers her words. </p><p>“How about this. You can tell me your story,” she points at her own glasses, “and I’ll tell you mine.”</p><p>“Really?” Vriska perks up.</p><p>“If it makes you feel better that I know,” Terezi shrugs, “but I don’t want this thing you’re telling me...I don’t want to walk away from this conversation where only one of us has cards on the table.”</p><p>“You don’t have to,” Vriska says.</p><p>“No, I don’t.”</p><p>“You don’t mind?”</p><p>“No,”</p><p>“Are you lying?”</p><p>“Only a little,” Terezi answers, tilting her head.</p><p>“I don’t want you to do this if it makes you uncomfortable,” Vriska takes a step back.</p><p>“Ditto,” Terezi says.</p><p>“Fine,” Vriska agrees, “short versions, though. I’m not interested in a one-on-one venting session. Too many emotions.”</p><p>“You sure are a charmer,” Terezi scoffs.</p><p>“Would you want to do the long versions?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“Absolutely fucking not,” Terezi admits.</p><p>“Right, exactly.”</p><p>“I take your point,” Terezi sighs, “anyway.”</p><p>“Yeah, anyway.”</p><p>“When I was fifteen, I took a blow to the back of my head. Lights out,” Terezi explains.</p><p>“Jesus.”</p><p>“Correct,”  Terezi says nothing more. She’s waiting. </p><p>“Car accident. The windshield shattered,” Vriska explains.</p><p>“Ah,” Terezi looks away, “sorry.”</p><p>“Sorry to you too.”</p><p>“Well, now that that’s settled,” Terezi picks up the dish towel again.</p><p>“I can wipe down the counter if you do the dishes,” Vriska offers.</p><p>“Deal,” Terezi says. </p><p>It’s silent for an entirely uncomfortable amount of time.</p><p>“Generally,” Terezi says, “I think it’s bad form to tell someone your deepest secrets before, like, the basics.”</p><p>“I’d think you’d be right about that,” Vriska agrees.</p><p>“So we have catching up to do,” Terezi adds, “otherwise we’re both gonna feel weird about this in the morning.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure I’d feel weird about whatever this is regardless,” Vriska points out, “alright, ask me things.”</p><p>“What kinds of things?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“I dunno,” Vriska pauses, “whatever you think of, I guess.”</p><p>“How about this. I tell you things about myself, and you reply with things about yourself,” Terezi suggests.</p><p>“Sounds good,” Vriska nods.</p><p>“I’m from Queens,” Terezi starts.</p><p>“Miami,” Vriska replies.</p><p>“Growing up, I lived with my mom,” Terezi continues.</p><p>“Me too,” Vriska says.</p><p>“I’m Mexican,” Terezi resolves to refill the pot that has been soaking for three days with more soap and water. It’s not coming clean any time soon, “well, half, anyway.”</p><p>“Me too,” Vriska repeats, “but you already knew that.”</p><p>“My dad was Puerto Rican,” she offers, “he passed away when I was little.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Being sorry isn’t allowed,” Terezi warns her, “we’re trying to diffuse this situation.</p><p>“I was the result of a one-night stand,” Vriska tells her, “my mom and I used to make up stories about him. Dad’s in espionage. Dad’s finding Atlantis.”</p><p>This earns a laugh from Terezi.</p><p>“Sorry, go on,” Terezi says.</p><p>“We did that for other people, too. People on the bus, people at her job,” Vriska explains, “it’s her favorite.”</p><p>“She sounds nice,” Terezi says. </p><p>Vriska seizes.</p><p>“Yeah,” Vriska mutters, “how about your mom?”</p><p>“The nicest person on planet Earth,” Terezi smiles, “it was completely infuriating growing up.”</p><p>This time Vriska laughs.</p><p>“Well, whoever said the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree didn’t meet you,” Vriska adds.</p><p>“Fuck off,” Terezi shakes her head, “but you’re right. She and Dave though, I used to joke around that Dave was my mom’s real kid.”</p><p>“She knows Dave?”</p><p>“Yeah. me and Dave go way back. He was over at our house more than he was at his. They were, like, best friends,” Terezi continues, “I think she would have liked Rose, too, if they had a chance to meet.”</p><p>“They haven’t?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“No, Dave didn’t even know he had a sister until he was, like, sixteen. Which was after…” Terezi trails off, “does your mom still live in Miami, or did you both move here?”</p><p>“She actually,” Vriska clears her throat, “she passed away.”</p><p>Terezi considers several responses. None of them work in her brain versions of this conversation.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” she says.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Vriska shrugs.</p><p>“Mine too,” Terezi blurts out, and follows with, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to-”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Vriska stops her, though she feels like she might throw up, “we’re getting to know each other.”</p><p>“Well...anyway,” Terezi scratches her arm.</p><p>“Yeah, anyway,” Vriska put her hand in her pocket.</p><p>“How did you meet Aradia?” Terezi starts the dishwasher.</p><p>“High school,” Vriska answers, “she hated me.”</p><p>“I can’t imagine why.”</p><p>“Fuck off.”</p><p>“What made her come around?” Terezi blinks at her.</p><p>“Well, we had a lot of detention together. I guess, you know, everything going on at home, being the new kid, she started kind of hanging around me because she thought I was a target for bullies and I had a mouth on me.”</p><p>“Was she right?”</p><p>“She might have been,” Vriska confesses, “she’s saved my ass about a thousand times. Don’t tell her I said that.”</p><p>“Wouldn’t dare,” Terezi promises, “thanks for helping me clean up. You can take home a box of donuts, if you want.”</p><p>“I thought that you had dibs on all the donuts?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“Well,” Terezi pauses, “maybe I’m not so hungry today.”</p><p>“Terezi Pyrope, are we becoming friends?” Vriska places her hand on her hip.</p><p>“Over my dead body,” Terezi says with a small smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And maybe one day<br/>I’ll be brave<br/>But for now<br/>I will be only what I am<br/>And maybe one day I’ll be sane<br/>But for now I will be only what I can<br/>-Cut My Hair by Pom Pom Squad</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Olive Branches Make Lousy Mobility Aids</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you guys for the nice comments and kudos and just reading in general! I wish I could think of things to say but all that's coming to me is "I'd die for you" and that's not really something you're advised to tell strangers!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Vriska is by far the most perplexing person that Terezi has ever met in her whole life. She's met a lot of perplexing people. She lives with Rose, for god's sake. Vriska isn't really a bad person, Terezi decides. She is, however, invasive and annoying. Maybe if Terezi could find evidence that Vriska is rude on purpose, she'd stop letting her drift into her mind every so often. More than every so often. Okay, whatever, often. </p><p>The unfortunate truth of the matter is that Terezi doesn't think Vriska is the way she is because she's rude. Maybe she's just ungraceful about social situations. Their last conversation sticks to her mind like an annoying little buzzing fly to a honey-coated trap.</p><p>They were nice to each other. Nice as Terezi and Vriska got, anyway. Which, honestly, wasn't particularly nice. She keeps thinking about it. Are they friends now? Vriska asked. Maybe she was just teasing. She was probably just teasing. Fuck, was she?</p><p>They talked about their pasts. Terezi doesn't do shit like that. Terezi thinks about her mother's death as little as she possibly can. And how she went blind even less. She doesn't like rehashing her life story. That's part of the reason she doesn't go to group. So why did she? Why was she telling Vriska all that personal nonsense. </p><p>She refuses to analyze it further a few days after it happens and compromises to avoid Vriska altogether. This isn't the easiest thing. Vriska is like a goddamn magnet and she's at their house all the fucking time. But Terezi manages just fine. Until one day, she doesn't.</p><p>"Rez?" Dave asks from the other side of the door. </p><p>Terezi lies very still on her bed hoping that will keep him from asking whatever he needs again. Maybe if she lies still, he won't see her. </p><p>"Terezi, I know you're in there. I saw you walk in there with a two-liter of Fanta that was supposed to be for group," of course, Dave is already on the other side of the door, knows if she was asleep, she'd be snoring, and furthermore Dave is not a tyrannosaurus rex. Lying still will do her no good. </p><p>"What?" she sits up.</p><p>"Can I come in?" Dave asks.</p><p>"Whatever," Terezi answers, despite the fact she was dead set on telling him to fuck off. Sometimes, she doesn't say things as rudely as she would like. Dave is nearly always involved in these circumstances.</p><p>Dave walks into her room and he is audibly disgusted at the state of Terezi's bed. Terezi herself can only imagine the amount of crumbs she's surrounded by. </p><p>"I have a favor to ask you," Dave begins, "if you're willing."</p><p>"I'm not agreeing to it if you don't tell me what the favor is," Terezi blinks at him. Dave hesitates.</p><p>"I know Vriska isn't your favorite person-""</p><p>"No," Terezi cuts him off.</p><p>"I didn't even finish asking what I was going to ask!" Dave points out.</p><p>"Well, whatever it is, it involves Vriska. Unless it's I know Vriska's not your favorite person, but would you turn the tv down."</p><p>"Rez," Dave sighs.</p><p>"I know Vriska's not your favorite person, but can I have some of your chips."</p><p>"Rez," Dave repeats.</p><p>"I know Vriska's not your favorite person, but-"</p><p>"Shut the fuck up," Dave tells her. </p><p>She does, indeed, shut the fuck up.</p><p>"Aradia's in the hospital," Dave says. </p><p>"Oh," Terezi says.</p><p>"Vriska needs to take the bus to get to the hospital where she is," Dave continues.</p><p>"The bus schedule is on Rose's dresser," Terezi offers.</p><p>"She doesn't want to go alone," Dave adds.</p><p>"Well, then, go with her," Terezi suggests.</p><p>"We can't," Dave says.</p><p>"Neither of you?" Terezi raises an eyebrow.</p><p>"Neither of us," Dave says, "the meeting."</p><p>"One of you can't miss it?" Terezi asks.</p><p>"One of us is missing it," Dave replies.</p><p>"Right. You're meeting Roxy," Terezi mumbles.</p><p>"Right. And Rose can't go, because she's already hosting alone, and it's too short notice to cancel."</p><p>"So take her after the meeting," Terezi shrugs.</p><p>"Terezi, we're in the middle of a goddamn emergency," Dave's patience rarely wears thin with Terezi.</p><p>"I'm chronically ill, all of my friends are chronically ill. Far as I'm concerned, my whole life is a long line of emergencies," Terezi points out.</p><p>"Quit being a fucking baby!" Dave snaps. </p><p>This draws Terezi's attention. Dave never yells at her. Not ever. </p><p>"Okay," Terezi sighs, "so, why are you asking if you're gonna force me?"</p><p>"I'm not forcing you. I'm giving you an ultimatum," Dave corrects, "you can either go to the hospital with Vriska, or you can stay here and host the meeting for Rose."</p><p>Terezi considers.</p><p>"Fine," she slides out of bed.</p><p>"Fine to which option?" Dave asks.</p><p>"I'll go to the hospital with Vriska," Terezi replies.</p><p>"Thanks," Dave says.</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Sorry for yelling," he adds.</p><p>"It's cool," Terezi says, "so. Where, exactly, is the hospital?"</p><hr/><p>They spend the entire bus ride in near-complete awkward silence. They're both unbearably aware of their last conversation getting way too real. And no matter how they feel about it, it happened. And they can't take any of it back.</p><p>Terezi asks an occasional question, though. She already knows that Aradia has Multiple Sclerosis. She finds out that she also experiences epilepsy on the bus ride.</p><p>When they get to the hospital, a nurse leads them to Aradia's room almost immediately. Vriska considers for half a second that it's easier here in the city. She quickly rejects this thought.</p><p>"Hey," Aradia greets.</p><p>"You didn't change me from your emergency contact," Vriska says. She drops her bag, walks over to Aradia, and hugs her.</p><p>"I didn't think I was gonna have another seizure quite this soon," Aradia replies, wrapping her arms around her.</p><p>Terezi is painfully aware of the fact she's stepping in on a private moment. </p><p>"Hey, Terezi," Aradia waves to her.</p><p>"Hey," Terezi echoes, "how's it going?"</p><p>"Great," Aradia replies dryly, "I'm actually here to receive an award."</p><p>Terezi may not be sure how she feels about Vriska, but she decides she likes Aradia. Quite a bit, in fact.</p><p>"In that case, I'd compliment you on your evening gown if I could, you know, see it," Terezi responds.</p><p>"I'm fine, Terezi. Thanks for coming with Vriska," Aradia adds.</p><p>"No problem," Terezi lies.</p><p>"If you could maybe," Vriska sighs, "if you could give us a few minutes."</p><p>"Sure," Terezi feels around for her dog's leash. Pyralspite sits patiently outside the room. They know the rules.</p><p>"Thanks," Vriska says, "and thanks, you know, for coming."</p><p>"Yeah," Terezi nods. Vriska listens for the sound of footsteps to disappear. </p><p>"Okay, we need to talk," Vriska folds her arms, "first of all, how are you doing really?"</p><p>"I'm gonna be fine," Aradia says, "I promise."</p><p>"Good," Vriska runs her fingers through her hair. She stops when she catches a knot, "secondly, where the hell is your sister?"</p><p>"She's getting me food," Aradia answers.</p><p>"Did she know I was coming?" Vriska asks.</p><p>"She did."</p><p>"She should have waited," Vriska tells her, "at least until I got here."</p><p>"Vriska, I asked for the food," Aradia assures her, "calm down."</p><p>"Fine," Vriska huffs, "but I still wouldn't have left you alone."</p><p>"You wouldn't have," Aradia agrees, "but that's why I always get so hungry."</p><p>"Right," Vriska slumps her shoulders, "how are you dealing, other than this?"</p><p>"Other than this?" Aradia repeats.</p><p>"You know," Vriska shrugs, "with your sister. Here."</p><p>"I'm good. Happy," Aradia says, and it stings no matter how Vriska attempts to tell herself that it's completely irrational.:"</p><p>"Good," Vriska says.</p><p>"And how are you doing?" Aradia asks.</p><p>"Good," Vriska is lying. She knows that Aradia can tell. She doesn't particularly care.</p><p>"Did you do that thing we talked about?" Aradia tilts her head.</p><p>"It's only been a few weeks," Vriska says. It's not really an answer.</p><p>"Vriska," Aradia sighs.</p><p>"What? It's fucking hard, okay?" Vriska defends herself, "I mean. I already fucked this sort of thing up before."</p><p>"One, you did not fuck up your relationship with your mother. Two, this is different, and you know it," Aradia points out.</p><p>"I wouldn't even know where to start," Vriska sits down.</p><p>"Call her. Say, hi, I'm Vriska. I think we're sisters," Aradia suggests.</p><p>"I don't know!" Vriska slams the back of her head against the wall and tries to act unfazed, "What if she wants nothing to do with me? What if she has this whole life-"</p><p>"Everyone has a whole life," Aradia says.</p><p>"That's not even remotely true," Vriska argues.</p><p>"Vriska."</p><p>"What if she's been looking for Mom, and I have to tell her that she's in jail," Vriska is resisting the increasing possibility that she's going to start crying, "I couldn't even tell Terezi that she's in jail. I had to make up some bullshit about how I'm an orphan."</p><p>"I think you do technically qualify as an orphan," Aradia narrows her eyes, "I know that's not your point, though."</p><p>"I just," Vriska inhales, "I can't do this without you. I can't go any of it. Not reach out to my sister, not pay rent, not go to group. I can't even watch bad horror movies without you, because that was our thing. Fuck, I miss you."</p><p>"I miss you too," Aradia grabs Vriska's hand, "it's gonna be bad. It's gonna be really bad for a little while. A long while. This whole situation sucks ass."</p><p>"Yeah," Vriska agrees."</p><p>"And it's cool if you don't want to reach out to your sister or anything. You're not ready. But you're gonna have to do me a favor," Aradia smiles.</p><p>"Anything," Vriska locks eyes with her.</p><p>"I need you to not use me as an excuse to stop living your life," she continues, "Okay?"</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Aradia squeezes Vriska's hand.</p><hr/><p>Terezi has been in this waiting room forever. She's asked a stranger for the time twice in the past fifteen minutes. It's been almost four hours.</p><p>“Hello!” a voice says.</p><p>“Hi,” Terezi turns to face the direction of the noise. She can smell passionfruit.</p><p>“Sorry to bother you,” she speaks again, “I just wanted to say hi!”</p><p>“Well, mission accomplished,” Terezi says plainly.</p><p>“I’m Jade,” she continues. Terezi switches her cane from her left to her right hand so she has a free hand to shake.</p><p>“Rez,” she says.</p><p>“Cute dog,” Jade adds. Her hands seem to be covered in rubber bands.</p><p>“I’m sure she is,” Terezi retracts her hand, “please do not pet her.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Jade says, “I know the rules. I have a service dog, too.”</p><p>“Is your dog with you?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Nah, he’s home with my brother. I’m not supposed to have him here for extended stay,” Jade explains, “CF. A lot of allergies up there.”</p><p>“Ah,” Terezi nods.</p><p>“Yo,” Vriska’s voice comes in behind her, “I’m done.”</p><p>“Okay,” Terezi stands. She finds herself in the very awkward position of having to introduce a stranger and whatever Vriska is.</p><p>“Sorry to interrupt. Vriska Serket,” Vriska doesn’t give Terezi the chance.</p><p>“Jade Harley,” Jade replies, “friend of Rez?”</p><p>“Something like that,” Vriska says. Terezi shoots her a glance, “thanks for keeping her company.”</p><p>“No problem!” Jade beams.</p><p>“Well, I guess we should get going,” Terezi chimes in, “the busses don’t run all night.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Vriska agrees.</p><p>“Okay! See you later, Rez!” Jade says, “See you later, Vriska!”</p><p>“I’m sure this won’t be the last time we run into each other,” Vriska says, “see you around.”</p><p>What a nice girl, Terezi thinks. What a strange, nice girl.</p><hr/><p>"Thanks," Vriska says, about halfway through the bus ride, "for coming with."</p><p>"You're welcome," Terezi replies, "is Aradia going to be okay?"</p><p>"She's gonna be fine," Vriska sounds so far away, especially for someone who happens to be sitting right next to her, "I mean, obviously it's not good that it happened. Pisses me off that it did. If anything happened to Aradia, I don't know what I'd do."</p><p>"You really care about her, huh?" Terezi asks.</p><p>"I'm pretty sure I'm in love with her," Vriska answers.</p><p>"Oh yeah?" Terezi has absolutely no idea how to process the information that's just been given to her.</p><p>"Fuck, pretend I didn't say that," Vriska says.</p><p>"Did you mean it?" Terezi asks.</p><p>"Of course I fucking mean it, dipshit!" Vriska is speaking at entirely too high a volume for a public bus at 12:30 at night.</p><p>"Jesus!" Terezi shouts.</p><p>"Sorry," Vriska calms herself.</p><p>"It's cool," Terezi says, "if you don't mind my asking, does she know?"</p><p>"I think so. I've never told her, if that's what you mean," Vriska explains, "I think she feels the same way about me. But you know, no thanks."</p><p>"No thanks?" Terezi repeats.</p><p>"We'd be a disaster," Vriska elaborates, "I mean, fuck, first of all, I can't even take care of her. That's why we're on a forty-five-minute bus ride instead of a ten-minute walk. Second of all, she's been in my life way too long. She knows I'm a bad person, the jig is up."</p><p>"Spare me the self-loathing poor pitiful me garbage," Terezi says, a lot ruder than it sounded in her head, "you're not a bad person."</p><p>"If you knew me more you'd like me less," Vriska replies.</p><p>"To the contrary," Terezi leans forward, "I like you a lot more now that we've had the conversation we did. When I met you, I thought you were the most obnoxious person alive."</p><p>"And you still think that. Just now you know how I lost my arm," Vriska finishes.</p><p>"Something like that," Terezi nods.</p><p>"And Jesus Christ, I'm gonna have to deal with this on my own until next Wednesday," Vriska sighs, "I'm gonna be fucked up and jittery all week."</p><p>"So group really helps, huh?" Terezi asks.</p><p>"Yeah," Vriska looks at her, "it's good to know there's a place I can talk about my shit without being judged or feeling like I'm under a microscope. And nobody brings shit up the second the meeting is over. That's one of the most appealing parts of it."</p><p>"How do you do it?" Terezi leans her head against the back of the seat, "The talking thing I mean. The telling people about your problems and not being so ashamed afterward?"</p><p>"It's hard. Contrary to popular belief, I don't really like telling people my shit. But it helps. And it helps to hear other people talk about their shit," Vriska explains, "not because people like to know they don't have it the worst, or whatever, but because shit's less hard to deal with when you're surrounded by people who get it, you know?"</p><p>"Yeah," Terezi scratches her arm, "I wish that sort of thing helped me."</p><p>"How do you know it doesn't?" Vriska asks, "I mean, I know you've never been to more than three meetings of any given group."</p><p>"I give it enough to try," Terezi says, "if I like it, I stay."</p><p>"That's not how it works," Vriska informs her.</p><p>"Well, how exactly does it work, then?" Terezi asks.</p><p>"You don't go to one meeting and decide it's not for you. You go to one meeting, and if it doesn't help, you go to another one. Then you keep going until something someone says hits."</p><p>"It sounds so uncomplicated when you say it," Terezi sighs, "but I don't know how to deal with being embarrassed about it. I feel like there's a sort of walk of shame every time I open up to someone."</p><p>"Is that why you're avoiding me?" Vriska asks.</p><p>"I'm not avoiding you," Terezi protests, "I happen to be sitting next to you on a bus speaking directly to you."</p><p>"But you know what I mean!" Vriska huffs, "I thought, you know, you and I were starting to get along."</p><p>"We were," Terezi says, "are."</p><p>"Then why have you stopped coming out of your room even after meetings? Why is tonight the first time you've talked to me in two full weeks?"</p><p>"I," Terezi starts. She shuts her mouth. There's nothing really to say to that.</p><p>"I mean, fuck. I've spent two weeks overanalyzing every fucking thing I've said to you," Vriska says, "and I find out that the reason you haven't been talking to me is because you get too wrapped up in your own anxiety and shit to think about how badly you're hurting someone's fucking feelings."</p><p>Terezi is completely taken aback.</p><p>"And I hate you for it! You know, I hate you. I'm not a great person. I'm a shitty friend. I'm not fun to talk to. But fuck, dude, I'm trying. I'm trying and you don't even give a shit that I am. I heard you talking about me to Dave. Your life is a long line of emergencies? Get the fuck over yourself!"</p><p>"Stop," Terezi says.</p><p>"You think you're better than group. You're better than opening up, you're better than trusting people to help you deal with your shit. You think it makes you some hero. Really it just makes you a martyr, and to tell you the truth, that's fucking pathetic."</p><p>"Vriska, stop," Terezi repeats.</p><p>"There's probably some part of you that does care that you're being a bitch, and there's probably even a part of you that wants to be my friend. But I can't wait for you to get off your ass and decide that's what you want to do, you know?" Vriska stands up, "Thank you for taking me to the hospital. I mean that. But to be honest? You can go fuck yourself."</p><p>Terezi can hear her walking over to another seat. She wants to say something. She just doesn't know what. Terezi would be tempted to cry if she wasn't in public. That's exactly the type of vulnerability she's for whatever reason terrified of expressing.</p><p>When they get back to the apartment, Vriska crashes on their couch. It's too late at night for her to walk home by herself. Rose insists. </p><p>Terezi goes to her room, turns on the water in the shower, and cries until she feels like she's gonna faint.</p><hr/><p>It's during the next meeting that Terezi walks out of her room.</p><p>"And you know, it's not all bad, I mean, I get all the free cotton balls and popsicle sticks I want. Thinking of building a house with them," someone says. This makes the whole group laugh.</p><p>Terezi finds her way to where she knows Rose's chair is and sits down next to her. She can feel Vriska's eyes on her.</p><p>"Okay, does anyone have anything else they want to say before we move on?" Rose asks. Terezi lets the silence sit a moment before she even tries.</p><p>"Well, I have no idea if this has anything to do with what you guys were talking about, but-oh, by the way, I'm Terezi. Arrhythmia-I wanted to say that I've been not coming to meetings. I'm the girl who sometimes comes out here for snacks and for the rest of the time tries to pretend this isn't happening in the living room."</p><p>"Hi, Terezi," the group says.</p><p>"I've been mostly avoiding this. And I don't mean this group. I mean any group. All groups. Every single one I've ever been to," Terezi continues, "every time I go through something, I kind of keep to myself. People ask me how I'm doing and I lie and if I don't I sort of retreat into myself."</p><p>Vriska leans forward in her chair. Her glare seems to be vanishing.</p><p>"I wasn't raised that way, you know. My mom never told me to be strong. She was the strong one. But you know, she got sick. And for once, I was the one that had to be strong because she wasn't anymore," Terezi says, "I hated that. And it sort of stuck with me. The attitude. I can keep pretending to be fine and if I'm convincing enough I'll start to feel fine, right?"</p><p>The group doesn't reply. It's rhetorical.</p><p>"But that's not how it works. I just keep getting worse, you know? Trying to deal with stuff on my own," Terezi looks down, "and it's come to my attention that I'm not the only person who gets hurt when I retreat and shut people out. So, you know, thanks to the person who made me realize that. And I'm sorry to anyone, here or otherwise, that I've shut out. That's all. Thanks."</p><p>Some people softly clap at her little monologue. Vriska doesn't. But she doesn't take her eyes off of Terezi for the rest of the meeting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"Oh I want to believe in some things I happen to read on the inside of fortune cookies<br/>I want to say no when I'm offered a hit and it ruins my weekend<br/>I'm nothing but trouble, watching you sleep<br/>Brushing your teeth and laughing at me<br/>I'm nothing but trouble, baby believe in me"<br/>-Indigo de Souza's "Good Heart"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Cinnamon and Lavender</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is where this son of a bitch starts getting REALLY cathartic. last chance to abandon ship</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There are two things that Terezi knows. One, that Dave, despite his constant attempts to convince everyone otherwise, is just about the nicest guy on the planet. Number two, he's screaming so loud Terezi is half-convinced he's being maimed in the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone else is in there yelling, too. Yelling back at Dave. Terezi missed this meeting because she had a doctor's appointment that ran late and she felt a little weird about making an entrance in the middle of a meeting. Again, that is. So she's been peacefully enjoying some Terezi time. And then there's the screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi knows that she has to see this one, no question about it. She knows, also, that she's going to have to be sneaky in order to not disrupt their argument. She creeps, silently, into the kitchen, and presses her ear to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Listen, you fucking disgrace to society," a voice Terezi knows she recognizes but fails to identify says, "I'm not going to sit here and fucking argue with you. But it requires repetition that you're wrong, so disgustingly wrong, in fact, that it's kind of alarming you graduated high school."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You just said you weren't going to argue, and then you proceeded to fucking argue. That is not how it fucking works, dipshit," Dave points out, "and don't instigate an argument if you're not ready to fight for what you believe in."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi hears the other door to the kitchen open and shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not spying," Terezi lies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, try again," Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who the hell is he arguing with out there?" Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know Karkat?" Vriska opens the fridge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, Karkat," Terezi doesn't think she's managed to have one conversation with the man since he's started coming to meetings. He's very loud. Sometimes, he hurts Terezi's ears, "what about?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're arguing about. Hang on," Vriska hands Terezi a soda, "open this. They're arguing about which is a better Chris Fleming video between Theater Kids and Teens Who Drink Coffee."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm a Baby Got Back Brings Out the Worst in People kinda gal myself," Terezi hands the now opened drink to Vriska, "Dave is so chill. I can't picture him starting an argument this fucking intense about internet videos."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Dave is chill," Vriska agrees, "I wouldn't tell him that right now though. He might start smashing plates."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh no, that definitely wouldn't be the funniest thing imaginable, I'd better not," Terezi says sarcastically as she hops up on the counter, "would you grab me a soda, too?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whatever," Vriska shrugs, "so, uh, we're friends again now? It's hard to keep up. I mean, if you made me a cheat sheet, that would make things so much easier."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Terezi slumps her shoulders, "well, you know, the meeting last week. Some of that was sort of meant to be an apology towards you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How much?" Vriska hands her a soda.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All of it, really," Terezi answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You suck at apologies," Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know," Terezi digs her nails into the bottom of the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But you know, if you wanted to hang out sometime in a not meeting and not hospital kind of setting sometime, I wouldn't be opposed," she continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Terezi says, "clean slate?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's no such thing," Vriska replies, "but you know. The whole friend thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Terezi sighs, "I'm bad at it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I gathered," Vriska looks at her, "I mean, we're gonna be seeing each other all the time. The very least we owe each other is a cold war."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want a cold war," Terezi protests, "I like talking to you. I like being around you. Maybe that freaks me out. I'm not good with people."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Vriska worries her lip, "I don't suppose you go to the movies or anything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Funny," Terezi narrows her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm just saying," Vriska shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everybody eats, though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you asking me to go to lunch with you?" Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Lunch, dinner. Whatever. Maybe on weekends we get together."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can cope with lunch. I can't cope with dinner," Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're just meals," Terezi points out, "is there really that much of a difference?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, there is. Connotations and shit, dude," Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Connotations," Terezi nods.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Vriska and Terezi find a pho place not far from Terezi's apartment. They decide this is the perfect setting for a lunch. Vriska reads Terezi the menu and Terezi picks an option that doesn't sound like it sucks and when they get their food to the table, Terezi dumps as much hot sauce as she can get in the bowl without it overflowing, the tip of her finger on the rim of the dish as a metric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska takes a different approach, consuming what she can manage plain to make room for as much sweet chili and hot sauce as she can. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You used more than me," Terezi observes when Vriska hands her back the bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So?" Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, my mom raised me to always use more hot sauce than whoever you're sitting with."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What if you ate lunch with your mom?" Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, well, we live with each other. There's no point in preserving our own pride," Terezi shrugs. Vriska laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She had all kinds of weird rules," Terezi stirs her pho, "she had another one about how to judge if a Mexican restaurant was good or not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do tell," Vriska leans forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If it smells like your grandmother's house, the walls are a really weird shade of pink or yellow, and there's a weird picture of Jesus, you know you're getting the good stuff."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Define weird picture," Vriska makes a face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My mom's favorite hole in the wall back home had a picture of him in outer space," Terezi answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sounds like a good rule," Vriska laughs again, and it occurs to her that her mother also had strange rules, so she kind of relates to this. Her mom's rules weren't funny, though, so Vriska keeps them to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Man, I miss that place," Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How did you wind up living in Pennsylvania, anyway?" Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh," Terezi puts her spoon down, "well. Me and Dave grew up in Queens, you already knew that. And we found out that Dave had a half-sister when we were putting together stuff about his parents. She lived here. He started talking to her. We came the second Dave turned eighteen. And you know, my parents are dead, my sister died when I was little, Dave's parents were dead, his brother is alive but the fucker can burn in hell, so we decided, you know, it was better to stay with her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wow," Vriska looks down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And things are just better here, man. I don't know. I love Queens. But I couldn't...everything used to remind me of my mom. Rose has a half-sister too. This girl named Roxy. She lives in Philly. She and Rose aren't, like, as close as me and Dave, but they're close. Dave adores her. It's like we're all this family."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's nice," Vriska leaves the end of the sentence sort of dangling midair like she has more to say. She thought she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How about you?" Terezi points an accusatory spoon at Vriska.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh?" Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How did you end up living here?" Terezi clarifies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Vriska clicks her tongue, "after my mom, I was in the foster system for a while. Jumped around Florida. Moved away when I had the money to. And Aradia followed me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But why Pennsylvania?" Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm a fan of bells," Vriska says, "fuck, I dunno. I closed my eyes and put my finger on a map."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sounds very Eat Pray Love," Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I guess so," Vriska nods, "mostly I just hated who I was growing up. I wanted to get away from that too. A different version of me lives in Miami."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah," Terezi is more than familiar with the phenomenon. She doesn't think it's the same as when Vriska talks about it, "do you have any other family?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Wherever the fuck my dad is, I don't know if he has any family. My mom was an only child. I have a sister, though," Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's she like?" Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know. I've never met her," Vriska laughs like it's a joke even though it's not, "my mom didn't talk about her much. She's older than me, so I don't remember the few years we coexisted."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How much older?" Terezi asks, "sorry. That's rude."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fourteen years," Vriska blinks, "but she stopped living with us when she was sixteen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, oh,"  Vriska agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My sister was eighteen years older than I was," Terezi doesn't know why she says this. It's true nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How old were you when she passed away?" Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Six," Terezi answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, oh."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi discovers two things this week. The first is that once you start talking about problems, it is extremely difficult to stop. The second thing is that if she must do this, she's glad she has Vriska's company for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lunch once a week. She can deal with that.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>"Are you sure this is okay? Because I can serve you guys something else, do you want that?" Roxy asks, "The last thing I want is you guys to be uncomfortable."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"To be honest, I'm more uncomfortable with you being at my beck-and-call," Terezi answers. Rose shoots her a look, remembers that will do her no good, and pinches her elbow instead. The irony that she was thinking the same thing is not lost on her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right," Roxy nods, "sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't apologize," Dave raises a hand, "you're just trying to be hospitable."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Roxy looks very much like she's not sure how to proceed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I like what you've done with the place," Dave adds, "I haven't met a lot of adults who have lip-shaped couches and pink curtains. It rules. I say that with not a single hint of irony."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks!" Roxy beams, "You know, this shade of pink doesn't exist in store. I had to mix it myself from two other colors."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It looks very cool," Rose chimes in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would be inclined to agree," Terezi says, "if I were not blind. I will say however, it does smell very nice in here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's cinnamon. I'm making cinnamon rolls," Roxy explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pizza and cinnamon rolls," Dave says, "sounds, oddly, like a good combination."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hope so," Roxy refills Dave's beverage, "so, how's that group going?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This week was kind of hard," Rose answers before anyone else gets the chance, "because someone missed the meeting and someone else decided to instigate an argument."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who?" Roxy raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who to which part?" Rose traces the rim of her glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who started a fight in the middle of a support group?" Roxy tilts her head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, it takes two to start a fight," Dave points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're right. Dave started fifty percent of a fight," Rose corrects herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He absolutely did not," Roxy scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, he did! Over absolutely nothing!" Rose huffs, "With this dude who, I'll admit he's fucking annoying, I will grant Dave that. But he didn't do anything, personally, to you, so-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He did do something! He did! He uses everything I say as an opportunity to antagonize me," Dave protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If I recall correctly, you started the last argument because he was making eye contact with you," Rose argues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He was glaring!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Was not!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Was too!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, how are you doing, Roxy?" Terezi asks very loudly over the still arguing siblings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm doing absolutely great," Roxy answers, "how about you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you know, the usual," Terezi shrugs, "I mean. As usual as you can get when your life is a revolving door of health problems."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How are you liking meetings so far?" Roxy asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I like them better in the comfort of my own home when I don't have to worry about whatever nonsense the discount youth pastor decides to tell us. It's nice. We have snacks. We bitch. It's honest."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, yes. I know you have always been fond of snacks," Roxy smiles at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There's this girl," Terezi continues, "she's kind of an asshole. But she's helped me come around to the whole talk about your feelings and deal with shit thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"A girl?" Roxy repeats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Her name is Vriska," Terezi adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I'm very glad she's in your life," the oven beeps behind them, and Roxy whips her head around, "sounds like the pizza's done."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks towards the kitchen, leaving the three others to their own devices in the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She seems happy," Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That she does," Rose agrees, "she's coming up on Four years next month."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Four years? Wow," Terezi says, "so that means she stopped drinking when she was, what?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Seventeen," Rose answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good for her. I'm glad," Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You guys talking about me?" Roxy sets three plates out before them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You wish," Dave snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, whatever," Roxy rolls her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit and eat and have a good time and Terezi refuses to let herself think what her brain is attempting to force upon her. If Terezi had stopped drinking when she was seventeen...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter. This is a family gathering. Terezi has more important things to think about right now.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>"Aradia, this is insane," Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's like the fifth time you've said that," Aradia points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It hasn't stopped being true any of those times," Vriska says, "you're just doing this on an impulse?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grips Aradia's wheelchair with a bit more force than necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yep," Aradia answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can't believe you're getting a tattoo," Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have tattoos," Aradia retorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, but, I'm the type of person who has tattoos. You're so..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you say proper, I'm going to have to climb out of this wheelchair and kick your ass," Aradia warns her, "and watch where you're wheeling me. You're gonna hit something and I'm gonna fly into the fucking sun like Icarus."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just never saw you having tattoos, is all," Vriska shrugs. She stops in front of the tattoo parlor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can take it from here," Aradia says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Vriska sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure that you want to do this alone?" Aradia asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Because if you're not sure-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can always-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aradia, stop," Vriska commands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay. Stopping," Aradia looks up at her, "are you sure you're ready for this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Vriska answers. She wheels Aradia into the building before she can respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not a long walk to the hotel her sister is stating at. She still can't believe she's going to do this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi," Vriska greets the front desk man aloof as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello, miss! Welcome! Checking in?" he asks politely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Actually I'm here to, uh," she pauses, "you have an Aranea Serket here. She's expecting me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The only guest Miss Serket told us to keep our eyes out for was her sister," he tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well. That makes sense, seeing as how I am her sister," Vriska was expecting this. It still sort of upsets her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're serious?" he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska takes out her ID and shows him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Half-sister. Mother's side," she explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My apologies, Miss Serket," he chirps, "I'll let her know you're here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cool. Coooool. Vriska slumps down in one of the chairs and waits. It's almost alarmingly quick that she hears the front desk guy say "she's over there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska stands and turns. She locks eyes with her sister. It's a long time before either one of them speaks. They're mostly just taking each other in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea is shorter than Vriska. She's white, but tan enough that it wouldn't be a stretch to guess that she's mixed. Damn Italians. She has jet black hair and hazel eyes. Vriska doesn't allow herself to fixate on how much she looks like their mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Vriska," Aranea says, finally. She extends her arms for a hug. Vriska tries to ignore how much she really doesn't want to hug this woman who she doesn't know, not really. She does it anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good to meet you," Vriska says, and it comes out almost harsh. She doesn't know how to express a warm sentiment to this woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's go upstairs. We can talk," Aranea suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What follows is the most awkward and silent elevator ride that has ever been shared by two human beings. When they get to the hotel room, Vriska has to fight gagging at the most pungent lavender aroma shes' ever breathed in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you want some coffee?" Aranea asks, "A coke?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll have a coke," Vriska answers. She sits down on the bed. It feels like the incorrect thing to do. She stands, and finds the nearest chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How's mom?" Aranea notices Vriska flinching, and adds "come on. One of us had to say something."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's," Vriska looks down. She has to tell the truth, she knows. Aranea is her sister. She lets the silence drag on for too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's not," Aranea furrows her brow, "she isn't dead, is she?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No!" Vriska waves her hand, "No. I mean. It's just, well, I don't know, exactly. We haven't really spoken since..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea doesn't break eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Since her trial," Vriska feels like she's slapping Aranea across the face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Her trial?" Aranea hands Vriska her drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aggravated battery," Vriska speaks slowly, "fifteen years."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus christ," Aranea's eyes fall on Vriska's shoulder, before immediately darting away again, "how long ago?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Five years," Vriska answers.  Sometimes, she catches herself saying she's in jail instead of prison. Jail, for whatever reason, doesn't hurt as bad to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, you haven't seen her at all?" Aranea asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You haven't seen her in eighteen years," Vriska points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She told me not to," Aranea says. Something in her voice tells Vriska that she's hit a nerve.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Vriska attempts lamely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," Aranea says. More endless quiet follows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I write to her," Vriska adds, "not as often as I should."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you guys talk, then?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not really. She doesn't write back," Vriska explains, "I keep meaning to visit. I don't know why I haven't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe we could try to visit her together?" Aranea asks, "If you don't want to go alone, I mean. I know I don't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'd like that," Vriska smiles. It's a nice thought. It's not the sort of thing Vriska would do in practice. But it is a nice thought, "so, what have you been up to for the past couple decades?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mostly waitressing," Aranea answers, "but I'm in college. I'm studying English."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's nice," Vriska says. She knows that it's too soon to ask. She is also, however, Vriska, so she tacks on "so how come you and my mom aren't talking?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea looks a bit taken aback.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"One of us had to say something," Vriska shrugs, echoing Aranea's previous statement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Aranea bites her lip, "are you sure that you want to hear about this?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sure," Vriska nods, "you're my sister. I've felt like part of me was missing like my whole life. Now I want to know why."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Vriska, I don't want to ruin the way you look at mom," Aranea says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She already did that herself a long time ago," Vriska folds her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine," Aranea sits down, "I don't know what she was like when you were growing up, but when I was a kid, she was just this codependent clingy nutjob. She homeschooled me, she took me everywhere with her, any friend who I wanted to spend time with had to be some kind of criminal, which, nice irony, mom. It was a long time before I even figured out something was wrong with it. You know, the way she treated me. Dad, too. I confronted Dad and he grounded me for two months for disrespecting her. I'm not even gonna get into all the shit she did."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska doesn't reply. She doesn't even blink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, one year, I want to go on this trip with my friends. You know, just a trip. I figured I was sixteen, I could do what I wanted. Well, she didn't see it that way. And we got into this screaming match, and she told me that if I was gonna leave, I shouldn't come back. So, I didn't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Vriska mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t hear that they got divorced until a few years later. Dad reached out to me,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you were sixteen when. Wait, your parents were still together when I was born?” Vriska feels sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You don’t remember my dad being around?” Aranea asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I don’t know. Maybe. She cheated on him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She did more than cheat,” Aranea blinks, “she was gonna leave dad for Hector.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hector?” Vriska shrieks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t know?” Aranea asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I did not fucking know!” Vriska yanks at her own hair, “You’re telling me I’ve been wondering who my dad was my whole fucking life, and it’s Hector? My mom’s best friend? The man who was over all the time? The guy who taught me how to write cursive? Babysat me and gave me fucking ice cream for dinner? That fucking Hector?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you need to be alone with this information,” Aranea says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just dropped a fucking bombshell on me, and now you’re kicking me out?” Vriska demands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not like that,” Aranea assures her, “I thought you knew. I think you should probably process all this, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska feels lightheaded. Oh, wait, she’s not breathing. Breathe!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna be in town for a couple weeks. We can get together tomorrow, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Vriska squeaks, “thanks for seeing me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait,” Aranea instructs, reaching over to the nightstand, “I wanted to give you something before you left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea carefully hands it to her. It’s a picture of a young girl holding a baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s us,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my favorite picture. I want you to have it,” Aranea says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really,” Aranea says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Vriska.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” Vriska furrows her brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to say it back,” Aranea adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Vriska says, “see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she’s in the hallway, completely reeling from everything that just happened. She wasn’t expecting them to instantly be besties or anything, but she couldn’t find a more awkward scripted encounter in her nightmares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Hector thing is a whole different beast, one she has no idea how to deal with. The whole situation is too much for her. She finds the nearest trash can and hurls in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she’s done, she decides she can’t deal with this by herself. She pulls out her phone and calls someone she feels like she can trust to calm her down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi picks up on the third ring.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>cause i've been watching heathers again<br/>and i just need someone to stay up with me<br/>i've been doing some things that scare me and i need someone to talk me down<br/>i've been staying up past my bedtime and i need someone to talk to!<br/>i've been watching heathers again, i'm boutta fuck around and call you<br/>i'm boutta fuck around and call you<br/>-Insignificant Other's "Heathers"c</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Does It Really Change Anything?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for such a long hiatus. I hope yall like this!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Vriska stands at the bus stop. No, she’s not just standing. She’s pacing with frightening speeds. She isn’t dressed to be outside. Her jacket is still at Aranea’s and to tell the truth she’s a little worried about her arm, but not enough to walk all the way back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grey bus grinds to a halt next to the curb beside her. It’s not surprising that Terezi is the first person to step off of the bus, led by her dog. It occurs to Vriska that this is insane.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Vriska greets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That had better be Vriska,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Vriska,” Vriska replies, “sorry for dragging you all the way out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Terezi tilts her head, “though I would appreciate an explanation. If you have one, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, well,” Vriska looks back, vaguely in the direction of her sister’s apartment, “I saw my sister today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one that you haven’t seen since you were two?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be the one,” Vriska nods, “Aradia encouraged me to reach out. Apparently, she had a voucher for a flight from when a flight home was delayed three days because of a blizzard a while back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, just like that, she dropped everything to fly out here?” Terezi recaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vriska.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree,” Vriska huffs, “anyway, she just dropped a massive fucking bombshell on me that I have no idea what to do with and she told me I needed to be alone with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So immediately you called me,” Terezi teases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” Vriska mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off?” Terezi repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean it like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cancel my piano lessons, ride a bus to the other side of town, alone, in the middle of a day, and you’re telling me to fuck off,” Terezi scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean it like that,” Vriska says again, louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what did you mean?” Terezi gestures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Vriska draws in a large breath, “I didn’t want to be alone, and I didn’t want to stay there because I don’t know her. Like, she knows me but I don’t know her. And I couldn’t go directly home-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have come over, you know,” Terezi interrupts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I couldn’t have,” Vriska attempts to shove her hand into a phantom jacket pocket, “because Aradia’s down the street from my sister’s getting a tattoo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Terezi pauses, “so, why didn’t you go talk to her instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aradia would yell at me to go back to my sister’s and work it out with her,” Vriska answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a bitch,” Terezi says, sarcastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. I shouldn’t have called,” Vriska drags her hand down her face, “you probably have some spiel prepared about how you would kill to talk to your sister again and I should be grateful for this wonderful opportunity-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you,” Terezi folds her arms, “don’t bring my shit into this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, am I wrong?” Vriska asks. She is not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter,” Terezi leans in, “you can call me if you’re pissed or you need someone to talk to or hang out with. But don’t bring my shit into it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Vriska considers, “sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, the bombshell?” Terezi doesn’t even render a response to her apology.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Vriska kisses her tongue before speaking, “so, you know how I never knew my dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m familiar,” Terezi tenses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just found out that he’s my mother’s best friend, Hector,” Vriska wastes no time getting to the point, “my whole life, he’s been around. And my mom never mentioned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure she would have,” Terezi assures her, “you know, when she thought you were old enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the point,” Vriska insists, resisting the urge to curl in on herself, “the point is that Hector knew, or at least I assume he did because my mom was going to leave Aranea’s dad for him, and he didn’t even…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi can sort of feel based on her footsteps where Vriska is. She considers putting a hand on her shoulder. She decides against it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t even come forward when her...when she died, I mean. He didn’t come forward,” Vriska continues, “I mean, if he had, it’s not like it would have changed jack shit. He was working minimum wage. Could barely support himself. And his name wasn’t on my birth certificate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stops talking for a very long time. Vriska is sort of waiting for Terezi to say something. Terezi considers it rude for her to. She refuses. Eventually, Vriska gets tired of waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe if he had, I dunno, said something. I would maybe have liked to have someone to write to,” Vriska finally says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When was the last time you spoke to this guy?” Terezi asks. She hates having used this guy to describe someone who very clearly means a lot to Vriska. It feels weirdly formal to call him her father. Formal and not all correct. Informal to call him Hector.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it was,” Vriska hesitates, “you know, right after my mom. At...you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the only time I ever saw him in a suit,” Vriska adds. He testified against her mother. She was angry with him when it happened. Maybe that’s why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s really shitty of him,” Terezi quickly realizes how untactful that is as soon as it leaves her mouth, “I mean, if you don’t mind my saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can say it’s shitty of him,” Vriska closes her eye. She cussed him out the last time she saw him. Maybe he should have still said something. Maybe he didn’t feel like it was his place to. Well, there’s no way to get an honest second opinion, not from Terezi and not right now. This is a dishonest portrait to paint of the scenario in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you going to do?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Vriska looks at Terezi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, are you going to reach out to him? Now that you know, I mean,” Terezi is being rather invasive, but it’s a little too hot out and the bus fare was a little too expensive for her to properly care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Vriska says, and it feels like the first honest thing she’s said, even though it really isn’t, “part of me wants to. Maybe just to slap him. What would you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I cannot physically picture the situation you’re going through without catching fire,” Terezi answers wryly. She will reply wrong. Vriska will take her own turmoil out on Terezi. So, that is what her brain gives her, better or worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s...really helpful, thanks,” Vriska squints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to say?” Terezi asks, “That guy is clearly a douche for never telling you what was going on. I mean, what the fuck was the situation where he thought not telling you was acceptable?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s messy. My mom was married to another man when I was born,” Vriska replies, “that and my mom apparently wanting to leave him for Hector is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot,” Terezi suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot,” Vriska echoes, “I mean, they got divorced a couple years later. My mom and Hector didn’t really talk a lot after that. He was in and out for a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Terezi is trying very very hard to not alienate Vriska by either acting like this situation is normal or behaving like Vriska is a space alien. She seems to be failing at both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It didn’t make sense after that not to tell me. And even if it did make sense not to, like, just, I was in the foster care system for five years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Terezi feels epically lame for not being able to provide a more complex thought here. She is sure, however, that Vriska does not have the capacity to notice with everything else going on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now Aranea wants me to go see mom with her?” Vriska scoffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See your mom?” Terezi puzzles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you know,” Vriska gestures, “her grave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This has gotten way too easy in a fashion that makes Vriska feel like tearing her own face off. Airtight backstory, ready made for her friend, who she has no good reason to lie to other than the fact she has baggage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Terezi doesn’t bat an eye at this, and Vriska is nauseated at how well her ruse is working, “well, do you think that would be good for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told her I would like that,” Vriska answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you mean it?” is all that Terezi can manage. Vriska seriously, seriously considers this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Vriska replies, not quite sure if she’s telling the truth, “it’s gonna be weird, though. I mean, obviously after my sister goes home in a couple weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, it feels so weird to call Aranea her sister. She supposes it is biologically true. But she doesn’t know this person. How is she supposed to develop an emotional attachment to someone when she’s already societally expected to have one ready-made? Jesus fuck, she can’t think about this situation anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to get lunch?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Terezi raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, Aradia’s gonna be busy for another however long. I’m done venting, I think. And I’m hungry,” Vriska explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure that I’m hungry? Sure that Aradia’s gonna be busy?” Vriska asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vriska,” Terezi sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m good,” Vriska finally answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a considerable pause in the conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cajun?” Vriska interrupts the thick silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For food,” Vriska elaborates, though poorly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Terezi clears her throat, “sure. Cajun sounds good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Vriska says. She starts walking. Terezi follows her. The more Terezi gets to know this woman, the more perplexing she seems to be.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>There is a work emergency for Aranea, and she has to go back to whatever podunk town she crawled up from. Vriska has been putting off asking the about forty thousand questions she has about Hector and her mom and her sister for </span>
  <em>
    <span>days </span>
  </em>
  <span>now, and she probably would have put them off till Aranea’s original planned flight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me,” Aranea says as she places her luggage on the spinny-deal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Vriska says, hesitant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, do call me, is what I meant,” Aranea corrects, '' regularly. Preferably weekly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weekly?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Aranea shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno, dude, I’ll try,” Vriska assures her. She really is not eager to try.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all I’m asking,” Aranea smiles, “if texting is easier, you can text me. But I’d like to talk on the phone once in a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Vriska agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any day of the week. As long as it’s after ten at night my time,” Aranea adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why ten?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After Meredith’s bedtime,” Aranea explains, “though I suspect she doesn’t sleep until well after that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska freezes. She forgot her sister has a daughter. A daughter with a considerable amount of years under her belt if her bedtime is ten oclock. Vriska hasn’t asked even one question about her niece and suddenly she feels a little rude.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say hi to Meredith for me,” it sounds a little forced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and her sister share an awkward hug and part ways. Vriska is not as relieved as she thought she would be when her sister left. There’s a disconnect there that Vriska has no idea how to bridge. Not only do they not know each other, but her sister is thirty-five years old.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fourteen years is a lifetime, she swears it is.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Terezi’s life, these days, is sort of hazy. She goes to lunch with Vriska, she watches movies with Dave and Rose. She goes to meetings. She is very bad at going to meetings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She goes only when she knows Vriska is going to be there, which Rose tells her is a bad reason to go to a support group. Whatever. Vriska is her buffer zone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is very bad at speaking at meetings. She doesn’t share, not ever. She makes mental notes of all the things that resonate. Dave lectures her multiple times about not speaking when she complains about the support group not really working.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s trying, god she’s trying. It doesn’t seem like it. Not to Rose, to Dave, to Vriska or anyone else. But she is. She wants this very badly to work. She just doesn’t like being the center of attention, or talking about her problems. She doesn’t know how she can talk about doing badly when she hears the way people speak about their own experiences.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s AA all over again, she swears. But it’s not. That’s the thing. It’s not. This is different. Better, she thinks, or she hopes. At the very least it’s a lot more fun to bitch when people aren’t telling you to be positive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walks her dog. She seems to be walking her dog more and more these days. She doesn’t know how she got it into her head that this was some kind of treat for Pyralspite, as really Pyralspite’s whole job is walking. Terezi makes a mental note to dramatically wonder about how Pyralspite feels about the act of walking around the block the next time she’s in the mood for a long shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mom crosses her mind a lot these days. So does her sister. Maybe it’s because of Vriska, maybe it’s not. Terezi is never going to be completely okay with this. No chance. But sometimes she can at least sort of pass as okay? Going to the grocery store without having a crisis is what passes as okay in her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She goes to the meeting and spends the whole time thinking about how different pho places she has eaten compare with each other. What is her fascination with pho? There are other kinds of food. That cajun place was great. Not ‘travel to the other side of town just for lunch’ great, but great. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a few weeks after the Hector incident. Terezi feels bad that Vriska has been sort of existing in the periphery of her life. So has everyone, she supposes. She wasn’t planning on revealing how lousy a friend she is sometimes this early, but whatever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’s when it happens, a few weeks after Hector, after a meeting when Terezi is breaking down chairs when her phone starts to ring. It’s sitting on the kitchen counter. Terezi doesn’t hear it. Dave does, though, and reflexively answers it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rez,” he clears his throat, “phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell whoever it is I’ll call them back,” Terezi instructs, stacking another chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi,” Dave presses, “it’s important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Terezi asks. Dave holds the phone up to his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, do you think it would be alright if I passed the message on?” Dave asks, “Yeah, right. Hearing it from someone who...yeah. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hangs up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that about?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave doesn’t answer at first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dave, you’re freaking me out,” Terezi drops what she’s doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“IT’s about,” he says, slowly, “Nepeta-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi, I know things were kind of rocky between you towards the end,” Dave says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understatement,” Terezi scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave puts a hand on her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She passed this morning,” Dave finally says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi shakes his hand off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Terezi’s voice is louder than it needs to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was an accident,” he continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up. No there wasn’t,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was supposed to tell you about the memorial service next Sunday,” he adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up, Dave,” Terezi’s voice is at a growl now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry,” he offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” Terezi shoots back. She runs to her room. She doesn’t come back out for the rest of the night.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Sorry for shooting the messenger last night,” Terezi announces to the apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Dave says, half-meaning it, “how did you sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” Terezi answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me either,” Dave admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how did it happen?” Terezi finally asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was walking across the street-” Dave starts to answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nevermind,” Terezi says, “so, next Sunday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Next Sunday. Long Island,” Dave speaks as dryly as he can possibly manage, “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go or not, but if you do, you can ride with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going?” Terezi sits on the couch next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was my friend too, Rez,” Dave’s leg is shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was twenty two, right?” Terezi asks, “I know she was older than us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She would have been in a month or two,” Dave answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, twenty one,” Terezi says, “that’s worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dave nods, “worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe her mom invited me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She loved you,” Dave points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean I deserve to go,” Terezi argues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, it was just as much Nepeta’s fault that you stop talking,” Dave says, “you’re gonna get some rude looks-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that rude looks are gonna bother me unless you actively inform me of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“-Some snide comments here and there. But her mom wants you there for a reason.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re saying I should go,” Terezi guesses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying that you can go or you can not go. But I don’t want you to not go because you guys had one stupid fight. And I don’t want you to go if you’re gonna get fucked up and guilty about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saying that as if it’s not going to happen regardless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi,” Dave sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. I’m going,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not because you have to, though?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Fuck. Maybe. If I don’t go, I’m gonna regret it,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if you do go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope it’s a fucking short service,” Terezi retorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave laughs, not really in a funny way but in a sort of couldn’t think of a way to respond to that fashion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna be an asshole to you,” she adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What else is new?” Dave asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not,” Terezi says, “and I wanted to say that I’m sorry up front, and that I’m going to try to not be a dick, but, well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nepeta just died,” Dave finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nepeta just died,” she echoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna be a rough weekend,” Dave says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi makes a noise in agreement and leans her head on Dave’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"I am alone the rest of the summer<br/>it doesn’t change much, but it’s a giant fuckin’ bummer<br/>I am alone the rest of the summer<br/>it doesn’t change much, but it’s a giant fuckin’ bummer</p><p>tellin’ myself that I’ll be okay<br/>it doesn’t matter that no one I love stays<br/>I wish I could go home, but it’s not there anymore<br/>there’s an eviction notice taped to my front porch"<br/>-Hospital Bracelet "Chocolate Milk (Like In Spiderman)"</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Going Home (Part One)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m going to see my sister this weekend,” Vriska announces to the group.</p><p>Nobody engages beyond a sympathetic nod or two. But Terezi leans forward in her chair. She was forced to do this tonight, no doubt. There’s absolutely no way Terezi, who is at best a well-meaning flake, would go to this voluntarily after the week she’s had.</p><p>“She lives in a small town in South Carolina. I’m flying down there with Aradia, you’ve all met her. Anyway,” Vriska looks down, “I’m gonna be gone for a minute. A week. Maybe two. It’s open-ended. So, if you’re all wondering why I’m missing, that’s it.”</p><p>Dave pipes up.</p><p>“Me and Terezi will be gone most of next week as well,” he says, “we’ll be in Long Island. So, if you have any questions about next Wednesday’s meeting, ask Rose.”</p><p>“I don’t know how I’m gonna cope with the lack of disturbances,” Karkat scoffs, “who am I supposed to threaten to kick the shit out of?”</p><p>“I’m sure you’ll find an orphan or whatever to harass in my absence,” Dave barks back a little too harshly.</p><p>Karkat opens his mouth to speak. Rose shoots him a glare and he clamps it shut again.</p><p>“Alright. Well, like Dave said,” she straightens the papers in her hand, “the meeting will be held next week, hosted by yours truly alone. I don’t know how I’m going to manage without them, but Dave has left me some note cards.”</p><p>“Note cards?” Terezi scoffs.</p><p>“Notecards,” Rose repeats. She glances at her watch, “it appears that ‘what’s new’ time has cut right into ‘eat donuts and shuffle awkwardly out of my apartment’ time, and we can’t lose much more of that or our bitch and moan session has a much less cathartic end. Meeting adjourned.”</p><p>Most of the participants stand and head for the donuts. Vriska remains seated in her chair, waiting the fashionable five minutes to go talk to Terezi. </p><p>Kanaya also sticks around. She walks toward Rose.</p><p>“Hello,” she says.</p><p>“Hi,” Rose says. She doesn’t investigate the matter further as she’s trying to seem aloof and untouchable to this pretty girl who hangs out in the apartment and listens to Rose vent her trauma. Kanaya doesn’t prod, as she is also trying to seem aloof and untouchable. It will be a miracle if they manage to complete a conversation before the next meeting.</p><p>Meanwhile, Vriska’s impatience gets the better of her as she approaches Terezi.</p><p>“I heard about your friend,” she starts. Great. Awesome. Perfect opener, “I wanted to say I was sorry.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Terezi tenses up. She doesn’t want sympathy. She wants to be left alone until after the funeral. By everyone. Well, everyone that isn’t Dave.</p><p>“You have my number,” Vriska says. It comes off less of an olive branch and more of an objectively correct statement.</p><p>“That I do,” Terezi replies in turn.</p><p>“So, you know, if you want to call me at all, while you’re away-”</p><p>“Won’t you be at your sister’s?” Terezi interrupts.</p><p>“I will,” Vriska says, “but I want you to know if you want to talk, you can call me.”</p><p>“Got it, thanks,” Terezi’s voice barely incorporates a change in tone from the monotonous greetings that she usually hands out to the people at the meeting. It feels harsh, but she’s trying not to snap.</p><p>“Fine. Don’t then,” Vriska shrugs. </p><p>“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to,” Terezi points out.</p><p>“Alright. Well, you can call or you can not call,” Vriska reiterates.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Okay?” Vriska raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yeah. If something comes to me that I’d like to inform you of, I’ll call you,” Terezi stands, “I’m sorry. I’m just not really in the mood for sympathy right now. I’m in sort of a don’t approach me unless I do it first place.”</p><p>Vriska is glad that Terezi cannot see the perplexed expression on her face.</p><p>“Okay,” she says.</p><p>“Have a good trip,” Terezi offers. Vriska almost says you too. She catches herself exactly on time.</p><p>“Thanks,” Vriska replies, “I’ll uh, see you. When I get back, I mean.”</p><p>“The offer stands for you, too,” Terezi says.</p><p>“Huh?” </p><p>“The calling thing. Talking. If you need to, you can call me.”</p><p>“Oh. Thanks.”</p><p>“Sure,” Terezi nods.</p><p>Vriska walks away, feeling awkward as ever, and past the two other idiots in the room trying to initiate a conversation, locked in a death battle of one becoming bizarrely focused on making sure these papers are completely straight and the other becoming bizarrely focused on her own cuticles.</p><p>Dave walks over.</p><p>“Hey, Kanaya. What’s up?” he asks, polite as ever, and blissfully unaware of the act of heroism he has just committed.</p><p>“Well, I was,” Kanaya laughs a little. She’s not sure why, “I was just about to tell your sister that, um, I know this meeting.”</p><p>“That’s the hope, I mean, we don’t want any wanderers who don’t know what the hell is going on,” Rose says.</p><p>“Right. But I know it well. And I know you’re hosting by yourself next week,” Kanaya continues, “if you want help, I can. I’ll bring coffee, donuts, read notecards. Name it. I’ll do it.”</p><p>“Sold!” Dave says.</p><p>“I can handle it myself, thanks,” Rose says.</p><p>“Not well,” Dave snorts. Rose glares at him.</p><p>“What, exactly, makes you say that?” Rose asks.</p><p>“Come on. The other week that I had to step out on account of the horrific diarrhea that I had and you had to close up?” Dave points out.</p><p>“That was the first time. Second time’s the charm,” Rose continues her game of not looking directly at her brother.</p><p>“Rose,” Dave says, “she wants to help. Accept it.”</p><p>“But I-”</p><p>“I know you’ve got this,” Dave assures her, “but for my sake. Just so I don’t worry about you. This. While I’m gone.”</p><p>Rose sighs. She looks at Kanaya.</p><p>“Sure. I would love some help,” Rose says, entirely unconvincingly. It’s too aloof. It comes off as rude. Rose would like to die now.</p><p>“Thanks, Kanaya,” Dave adds with a smile.</p><p>“You’re very welcome, Dave,” Kanaya grins back. There’s a weird pause. Kanaya slithers away before it can turn into an extended awkward silence. </p><hr/><p>“I’m not listening to your mixtape,” Terezi says, not now. Not on the train ride to my high school best friend’s funeral.”</p><p>“What would you like to listen to?” Dave asks. This is the fifth time that Terezi has complained about his music since the train began rolling.</p><p>“Maybe nothing,” Terezi answers.</p><p>“Okay,” Dave pauses the music. It’s about thirty seconds before Terezi complains again.</p><p>“Silence is worse,” she says.</p><p>“So?” Dave asks.</p><p>“Just put something on. Nothing with a number in the stage name,” Terezi says, “that should eliminate deejays and dubstep artists. And 3oh!3.”</p><p>“3oh!3 was a Nepeta band,” Dave nods.</p><p>“In middle school, at least,” Terezi sighs, “We should have done better at keeping up with what it was that she listened to.”</p><p>“As opposed to just making fun of her for liking a band she expressed interest in nine years ago.”</p><p>“God, don’t say nine years ago,” Terezi groans.</p><p>“She probably listened to cool music later,” Dave says.</p><p>“Or maybe she kept listening to Taylor Swift,” Terezi offers the alternative.</p><p>“Dear god I hope not,” Dave laughs.</p><p>Reminiscing. That’s good. It’s healthy. Rose would tell them they were being healthy.</p><p>“So, we’re coming back on Friday,” Terezi says.</p><p>“That’s true,” Dave nods again.</p><p>“And you’ve been incredibly cryptic and vague about what we’re doing with the time that we won’t be spending with Mrs. Leijon,” Terezi continues.</p><p>“That I have.”</p><p>“So,” Terezi gestures.</p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>“What gives?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Oh,” Dave clicks his tongue, “you’re not going to like it.”</p><p>“I bet I’m going to like it more than my best friend’s funeral,” Terezi points out. Her stomach protests with a flip.</p><p>“Well,” Dave clears his throat, “I wanted to see my brothers.”</p><p>“Why the fuck would yo-” Terezi cuts herself off, “sorry. I meant why the fuck, but, like, more polite. Kidz bop.”</p><p>“Moreso Dirk. I need to be better about keeping up with him,” he’s waiting for Terezi’s rule on this. Her judgment. God, she hates that.</p><p>“So, that’s the weekend at Mrs. Leijon’s and Monday to Thursday in Queens?”</p><p>“Something like that,” Dave shrugs.”</p><p>“Cool,” Terezi shuffles a bit in her seat, “you can put the music back on now.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><hr/><p>The flight from Philly’s airport to Colombia is only around ninety minutes. Vriska manages not to speak the whole time. Aradia wants her to. But she doesn’t want to pry. She wonders why it is she’s doing this and she remembers that with Vriska, there’s no way that she couldn’t.</p><p>Aranea doesn’t pick them up from the airport. She was supposed to. Meredith had something come up at school. Aranea apologizes profusely and sends a car. Vriska doesn’t talk except to thank the driver. </p><p>When they get to Holly Hill, she finally talks.</p><p>“I wonder what kind of places to eat they have here,” she says.</p><p>“I have been waiting for hours for you to say something and when you finally do, it’s food?” Aradia asks.</p><p>“You’re surprised by this, why?” Vriska asks, climbing out of the car.</p><p>“I have food, Vriska,” a familiar voice says.</p><p>Vriska looks up. Her sister stands in the open garage holding her keys. It seems that she only beat them here by a matter of minutes.</p><p>“Hi, Aranea,” Vriska waves. Aranea approaches and hugs Vriska. She tenses, wondering if she’s going to get used to this any time soon.</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Aradia says from inside the car.</p><p>“Will you help me help her out?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“Absolutely,” Aranea says. </p><p>“Her wheelchair’s in the Wayback,” Vriska clarifies.</p><p>“I’ve got it,” the driver chimes in.</p><p>“Thank you,” Aradia says.</p><p>“You know, house food isn’t as good as takeout,” Vriska is half-joking and half just plain being a bitch.</p><p>“I’m making pasta,” Aranea says, which isn’t really much of a rebuttal but it shuts Vriska up. </p><p>After the driver finishes getting their stuff, Aranea tips him as much as she can afford to, and begins escorting her sister and her friend up the driveway.</p><p>“It’s not much,” she says.</p><p>“Sorry?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“My house. It’s not much,” Aranea says.</p><p>“One hell of a salesman you are,” Vriska mumbles.</p><p>“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Aradia smiles.</p><p>It is. Well, sort of. Vriska isn’t sure what exactly she was expecting. For fuck’s sake, her sister is thirty-five, and it looks like how Vriska wanted to decorate her house when she was 12 years old. We’re talking some disney channel sitcom protagonist bullshit here. There isn’t anywhere to look that doesn’t have a disgustingly adorable pink fuzzy pillow.</p><p>“Meredith!” Aranea shouts up the stairs. Vriska can hear muffled music from what she assumes to be Meredith’s room. She has to repeat herself six times before the music stops.</p><p>“Yeah?” Meredith asks.</p><p>“Come down here. Your aunt wants to meet you,” Aranea explains.</p><p>“Cool,” she hears Meredith say. Vriska braces herself, unsure of what to expect.</p><p>Meredith appears around the corner of the staircase and freezes as her eyes catch Vriska. They spend a good amount of time sizing each other up.</p><p>The first thing that Vriska isn’t expecting is the blue jumpsuit. At first, Vriska might think it’s a fashion statement. Then she notices the name patch. She wears black sleeves underneath her jumpsuit that must be sweltering at the moment. The legs are tucked into plain black work boots.</p><p>Her sister’s daughter is old enough to be working.</p><p>Before she can finish reeling over that, she spends a truly awful amount of time contemplating how much Meredith looks like Vriska’s mother.</p><p>“Uh,” Meredith breaks the silence with an extended hand, “you can call me Edie.”</p><p>“Vriska,” Vriska shakes her niece’s hand. This is her niece. She has a niece.</p><p>“I know,” Meredith tucks a lock of hair behind her ear with her free hand, “it’s just that I hate Meredith. Anything else is fine. Just not my full first name.”</p><p>It’s now that Vriska notices her name tag says ‘Serket’. She retracts her hand.</p><p>“Aradia, we have somewhat of a functioning guest room on the main level set up for you,” Aranea turns towards her sister, “if neither of you minds sharing-”</p><p>“She can stay in my room,” Edie interjects, “with me.”</p><p>“Meredith,” Aranea sighs.</p><p>“Come on mom. It’ll be fun,” Edie insists. Vriska can tell this is a big deal to her. She feels a little sick.</p><p>“Oh, well...uh, Vriska?” </p><p>“I wouldn’t mind sharing with my niece,” Vriska blurts.</p><p>“In that case, well,” Aranea runs her hands through her hair, “show Vriska your room, and I’ll show Aradia hers.”</p><p>“Sick!” Meredith is carrying Vriska’s luggage up the stairs before she can protest.</p><p>Meredith’s room is surprisingly spacious. Lots of posters for bands that Vriska has never heard of. Alright, that she can cope with. </p><p>“So, uh, Edie,” Vriska finds herself unable to sit down without feeling weird, “what’s with the jumpsuit?”</p><p>“Oh! I’m a mechanic,” Edie explains.</p><p>“God, that’s cool,” Vriska says. Why is this teenager cooler than her?</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve been working at my shop for almost a year now,” Edie disappears behind a corner, “Of course, they only started letting me do the fun stuff after I turned eighteen.”</p><p>“You’re,” Vriska is sure she’s having a stroke, “how old?”</p><p>“Eighteen,” Edie repeats, “Hey, you’re not scared of spiders, are you?” </p><p>“I like spiders,” Vriska answers. Spiders are the least of her fears right now, “so that would have made your mom pregnant at sixteen.”</p><p>“You didn’t know that?” Edie walks towards her, seemingly having retrieved what she disappeared for.</p><p>“I guess I sort of...no. Not really,” Vriska admits, “what have you got there?”</p><p>“This is Spike,” Edie answers. The Spike in question is a spider. Not just any spider, a tarantula.</p><p>“Cool!” Vriska exclaims, “Can I hold him?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Edie hands Spike over as gently as she can manage. </p><p>Vriska is confused and upset and stressed out.</p><p>But at least she gets to hold a tarantula.</p><hr/><p>Mrs. Leijon has insisted that they stay at the house. Terezi tried to protest. A hotel would be just fine, she said. But Mrs. Leijon is nothing if not a persistent woman. </p><p>The line between eager and pushy is one Mrs. Leijon has always played jump rope with.</p><p>Dave knocks on the door. He has a key. He feels weird just using it.</p><p>They haven’t been here in five years. It still looks the same. Terraced yellow building with graffiti on the side. It feels different, though.</p><p>“Dave! Terezi!” Mrs. Leijon answers the door astonishingly chipper. She pulls them into a hug.</p><p>“Hi, Mrs. Leijon,” Dave manages, “you’re pinching my tube there.”</p><p>“Sorry!” Mrs. Leijon jumps back, “uh, come in. Please.”</p><p>They follow her instructions.</p><p>“I kept flipping back and forth trying to determine which would be less weird between staying in my house or Nepeta’s next door,” Mrs. Leijon continues.</p><p>“Isn’t next door Mrs. Abercrombie’s?” Dave asks.</p><p>“Oh, Mrs. Abercrombie died last year. I bought her house,” Mrs. Leijon explains, “I want to own the whole thing one day. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”</p><p>Her attitude breaks towards Dave’s politeness.</p><p>“Mrs. Leijon, are you okay?” he asks.</p><p>Mrs. Leijon straightens her spine.</p><p>“Yes, thank you,” she says, “are either of you hungry?”</p><p>“I am,” Dave says. </p><p>“You can show yourself to the kitchen,” Mrs. Leijon offers, “Junior is in there making food.”</p><p>“What kind of food?” Dave asks.</p><p>“She just said food,” Mrs. Leijon shrugs, “and you, Terezi?”</p><p>“I’m not, but I’ll tag along,” she grabs Dave’s arm.</p><p>“Whatever happened to your seeing-eye dog?” Mrs. Leijon asks, “I’m sorry, is that rude? The last thing that I want is to be rude.”</p><p>“Pyralspite,” Terezi says, “is back home. Sometimes I leave her when I’m gonna need minimal assistance. And, well, I have Dave and I know this place like the back of my hand.”</p><p>“Alright,” Mrs. Leijon is clearly uncomfortable at the prospect of Terezi not needing her help.</p><p>“If you want, I’d love something to drink though.” Terezi offers.</p><p>Mrs. Leijon lights up.</p><p>“Tea, coffee, soda?”  she asks.</p><p>“Coffee would be fine. Black with salt,” Terezi smiles.</p><p>“I remember,” Mrs. Leijon says sort of fondly. </p><p>“You are so goddamn weird,” Dave rolls his eyes.</p><p>“It makes it less bitter. Evens the flavor,” Terezi insists.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah,” Dave leads her into the kitchen. </p><p>Junior is standing there, making the most egg salad Terezi had ever smelled.</p><p>“Hey,” she says.</p><p>“Hey Junior. What’s with the egg salad?” she asks.</p><p>“I’m trying to figure out the perfect ratio of ingredients. This batch is one part mayo one part mustard with one pinch of paprika two pinches pepper and five pinches of salt. Taste,” she pushes a spoon at Dave.</p><p>“This is good,” he says.</p><p>“Good but not great,” Junior sighs. </p><p>“It’s perfectly decent egg salad,” Dave says, “why does it need to be perfect?”</p><p>“Because I’m making those tiny egg salad sandwiches for the service tomorrow and grieving people tend to turn their sadness into being pissed and they’re gonna taste the egg salad and it’s not gonna be perfect and then my mom’s gonna be all crying and shoveling egg salad sandwiches that she doesn’t even want into her face while telling me there’s something wrong with them.”</p><p>“Breathe,” Terezi instructs.</p><p>“Terezi, taste my egg salad,” Junior says.</p><p>“What? Why?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Because you have the perfect palette. You could save my dad’s cooking if you put your mind to it,” Junior explains.</p><p>“Where is your dad, anyway?” Dave folds his arms.</p><p>“My mom yelled at him about the flowers and he said ‘Meulin, you need some space to cool down, and then he went to a motel,” Junior says.</p><p>“How long ago was that?” Dave asks.</p><p>“Four days,” Junior answers, “so, egg salad?”</p><p>“Give me a spoon,” Terezi says. </p><p>“Right. Spoon incoming,” Junior gives Terezi a spoonful.</p><p>“More paprika,” Terezi says.</p><p>“How much more?” Junior asks. </p><p>“Maybe two pinches?” Terezi says.</p><p>“Thanks,” Junior beams, “so, I assume you didn’t come in here to give me moral support. What do you want to eat?”</p><p>“Do you guys still keep every kind of ramen they make fully stocked?” Dave retorts.</p><p>“My mom would kill me if she knew I was giving you ramen,” Junior stirs her egg salad.</p><p>“Is that a yes?” Dave asks.</p><p>“Chicken?” Junior reaches for the cabinet.</p><p>“Thanks,” Dave says.</p><p>“Why is everyone acting so weird?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Junior fills a bowl with hot water.</p><p>“You know, all normal and high energy and not grieving,” Terezi gestures dramatically.</p><p>“It comes and goes,” Junior explains, “my mom yells, I cry, dad storms off, et cetera.”</p><p>“Sounds about right,” Terezi leans her head against the wall, unsure about whether she believes Junior about the back and forth thing. Whatever. It tracks so far and it’s an explanation.</p><hr/><p>“We need to talk,” Vriska greets, closing the door behind her.</p><p>“Ooh, it’s been a very long time since I’ve been on this side of this sort of discussion,” Aranea puts her book down, “let me guess...my report card got mixed with another person’s at school, the wood is rotten on the frame of the window and that’s why it’s busted, that boy who’s texting me is my lab partner-”</p><p>“Aranea, be serious,” Vriska warns.</p><p>“Sorry. Serious,” Aranea perks up.</p><p>“Your daughter is eighteen years old,” Vriska continues.</p><p>“I can count,” Aranea furrows her brow.</p><p>“She can’t be eighteen because you left eighteen years ago” Vriska drags her hand down her face.</p><p>“Closer to nineteen years now,” Aranea clarifies.</p><p>“Nine months closer?” Vriska demands.</p><p>“Eleven,” Aranea corrects, “Vriska, what’s this about?”</p><p>“You left out part of the story,” Vriska begins pacing, “you said that mom told you if you went on that trip not to come back and you went anyway and that was that. But you were pregnant.”</p><p>“You don’t know that. I could have gotten pregnant a little after,” Aranea points out.</p><p>“Well?” Vriska freezes.</p><p>It’s quiet for a minute.</p><p>“Yes, I got pregnant on the trip,” she admits, “and I came back because she obviously didn’t mean it when she told me not to come back. She said I was grounded for two months and I thought that was the end of it. Then I was throwing up all over the place, my nipples felt weird, I peed on a stick, here we are.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you tell me?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“I told you the jist,” Aranea protests.</p><p>“The jist doesn’t leave out significant details,” Vriska huffs.</p><p>“I’m sorry I withheld information. Why are you freaking out?” Aranea asks.</p><p>“Because during mom’s trial, I was asked about living relatives by my lawyer I told her that I didn’t know who my dad was and my sister had a kid, because, well, I just found out about the kid. So I thought she was a baby. But she was twelve during mom’s trial. Twelve!”</p><p>“Vriska-”</p><p>“I was fifteen, I could have babysat or tutored or...something. And I could have gotten a part-time job to help with bills. And,” Vriska sighs, “did you know about her trial when it was happening?”</p><p>Aranea hesitates.</p><p>“Yes,” she says.</p><p>“And Hector knew he was Dad. And presumably, your dad thought so too. And nobody told me. I could have been with family!”</p><p>“Vriska,” Aranea repeats, “I’m sorry. I should have reached out. I should have called your lawyer.”</p><p>“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Vriska announces.</p><p>“Can I offer you an antacid or something?” Aranea asks, “Or a slice of bread?”</p><p>Vriska locks eyes with her.</p><p>“I’m going to bed,” she says.</p><p>“Okay,” Aranea stands, “goodnight. I love you.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Vriska opens the door back up. She does not head for her room. She does not head for Aradia’s. She does not head for something to barf in. She heads to the backyard and calls Terezi, who, to her surprise, picks up.</p><p>“Hey,” Terezi greets.</p><p>“Hey, sorry,” Vriska replies.</p><p>“Sorry for what?” Terezi yawns.</p><p>“I dunno, calling you to vent while you’re at a funeral, the fact it’s the middle of the night, for not telling you your shirt was inside out last week. Pick one,” Vriska instructs.</p><p>“Okay,” Terezi sits up in bed, “all is forgiven.”</p><p>“You were sleeping,” Vriska says.</p><p>“Not, like, well,” Terezi assures her, “what’s up?”</p><p>“Oh, you know, my sister left home because she was pregnant, the usual,” Vriska is bordering on hysterical, “how are you?”</p><p>“Oh, Junior’s become obsessed with making the perfect egg salad,” Terezi explains.</p><p>“Who the fuck is Junior?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“Nepeta’s sister,” Terezi answers.</p><p>“I’ve never met a girl junior,” Vriska says, “I’ve heard about them, though.”</p><p>“I, too, watched Gilmore Girls for a time,” Terezi laughs quietly, “Leo is her dad’s name. He’s the fifth. The problem was they had two girls. And do you know what Meulin said to her husband when he wanted to name her Lea instead?”</p><p>“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Vriska hears the garage open. </p><p>“She said I’m not having a daughter called Lea Leijon. So they compromised and nobody calls her anything but Junior or you get an earful from both parents. So, your sister?” </p><p>“My sister, who I hear escaping the house as we speak to get away from the disabled chronically ill girl who she knew had lost her mom and had no idea who her father was that bounced around foster care until she was eighteen and a little after because of aforementioned disability who she could have helped the whole time and didn’t.”</p><p>“Oy,” Terezi says.</p><p>“Agreed,” Vriska huffs, “and I know I shouldn’t have yelled at her.”</p><p>“I wasn’t going to say that,” Terezi defends.</p><p>“I shouldn’t have. And there’s, like, nuances and shit. But I can’t stop thinking about what would have gone differently if my sister had taken me in. I could have an actual relationship with my sister and my niece.”</p><p>“You can have a relationship with them now,” Terezi points out.</p><p>“Well, that remains to be seen. The point is that I just screamed at my sister who is letting me stay with her for things that happened five years ago that she can’t change now.”</p><p>“The situation isn’t new. But your feelings are,” Terezi shuffles around a bit, “that’s what Rose would say.”</p><p>“She is so goddamn annoying when she’s right and I hope she knows that.”</p><p>“It’s something she prides herself on,” Terezi says.</p><p>“So, since we’re on the phone…” Vriska trails off.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I don’t exactly know to ask you how things are going without sounding like an insensitive jerk.”</p><p>“Believe it or not, someone being an insensitive jerk to me would be a refreshing change of pace right about now,” Terezi eggs her on.</p><p>“Fine. How’s the funeral?” Vriska asks with all the tact of a pet rock.</p><p>“It’s weird,” Terezi answers, “everyone’s way too normal. Normal in like a Twilight Zone way.”</p><p>“And you specifically?” </p><p>“Holding up fine. I think I’m trapped squarely in denial, which is probably the best stage of grief to be in considering how everyone’s acting,” Terezi explains.</p><p>“If you were in the rage part, there would be a lot more broken plates,” Vriska says.</p><p>“Exactly,” Terezi agrees.</p><p>“So, my sister?”</p><p>“Go somewhere private with her. Don’t corner her, but ask her why she did what she did,” Terezi suggests.</p><p>“I like that. Simple, elegant-”</p><p>Terezi cuts her off with a laugh.</p><p>“Well, anyway,” Vriska clicks her tongue, “I should let you go back to sleep.”</p><p>“Counterpoint, if we’re on the phone for the duration of this trip, if we’re on speaker the whole time, no room for awkward pauses.”</p><p>“I’ll consider it. Night,” Vriska smiles.</p><p>“Wait!” Terezi is a little louder than she needs to be.</p><p>“Yeah?” Vriska asks.</p><p>“If you want to do this thing-”</p><p>“This thing?”</p><p>“Would you shut up for five seconds?”</p><p>Vriska knows replying is a trap so she doesn’t.</p><p>“The getting on the phone and saying goodnight and updating each other,” Terezi continues, “we can keep doing it. While we’re away. And only if you want.”</p><p>“I do want,” Vriska yawns again, “night, Terezi.” </p><p>“Night, Vriska.”</p><hr/><p>Terezi doesn’t usually eat breakfast, but Mrs. Leijon insists. She wants everyone to eat together.</p><p>It’s still alarmingly normal.</p><p>“So, I suppose we should discuss who will be giving the eulogy,” Mrs. Leijon adjusts the volume of her hearing aid.</p><p>“I think you should,” Dave suggests.</p><p>“Oh, that’s perfectly sweet of you,” Mrs. Leijon smiles, “but she said she didn’t want me to.”</p><p>“Who’s she?” Terezi furrows her brow.</p><p>“Nepeta,” Mrs. Leijon says it in sort of a duh fashion, “she wanted one of you to do it.”</p><p>“What,” and it’s less of a question on Terezi’s part and more of a remark.</p><p>“She said, towards the end, she wanted it to be one of you,” Mrs. Leijon continues.</p><p>“Why would she be talking about her eulogy?” Dave asks, “I mean...unless-”</p><p>“Well, I’m going to make some more pancakes. Does anybody want some more?” Mrs. Leijon stands.</p><p>“I’ll have some,” Terezi answers.</p><p>“Coming right up,” Mrs. Leijon says.</p><p>“That was very uncool,” Junior mumbles.</p><p>“Was that rude of me?” Dave asks.</p><p>“Not of you. Of my mom,” Junior answers, “dodging your question.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have asked,” Dave offers.</p><p>“Well, anyway, she talked a lot about her own death at the end,” Junior explains, “I mean, it could be just a freaky coincidence, but...I mean, who knows.”</p><p>“Is that why everyone’s being...the way they are?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“I think so,” Junior nods, “we don’t know what to think or how to feel about it. So we’ve mostly not been dealing with it. We’re doing a bad job.”</p><p>“Is there anything we can do?” Dave leans forward.</p><p>“You can decide who should give the eulogy so my mom has one less thing to explode about,” Junior suggests.</p><p>“Well, I gave the eulogy at my mom’s funeral,” Terezi points out, “that’s about my quota for my life.”</p><p>“I’m not great with words,” Dave says.</p><p>“Flip a coin,” Junior snaps.</p><p>“Okay,” Terezi replies.</p><p>There’s silence for a bit.</p><p>“Your pancakes should be ready in just a minute!” Mrs. Leijon shouts from the kitchen.</p><p>“I’ll do the eulogy,” Terezi volunteers.</p><p>“Really? That would be so great of you,” Junior tilts her head.</p><p>“Yeah. I mean, I’ve already given one. I know how they’re, like, structured or whatever,” Terezi says.</p><p>“Okay!” Junior stands and leaves.</p><p>“I was expecting this to be weird but like, this is a level of weird I had not anticipated,” Dave remarks when Junior is out of earshot.</p><p>“That’s the vibe,” Terezi nods. It’s going to be a bad day.</p><hr/><p>“We need to talk,” Vriska says, closing the door behind her.</p><p>“Didn’t we already do this?” Aranea asks.</p><p>“I know I shouldn’t have yelled at you last night,” Vriska elects to ignore her sister’s sarcastic remark.</p><p>“You were frustrated. It’s okay,” Aranea has no business being this forgiving, especially not while Vriska is still a little mad at her, “and you deserve answers. If you still want them, I mean.”</p><p>“I do,” Vriska says.</p><p>“Okay,” Aranea sighs, “before I tell you, there’s something I want you to understand. People aren’t perfect. And I don’t want you to hate anyone because of things that happened years ago.”</p><p>“Aranea,” Vriska warns.</p><p>“Fine,” Aranea shuts her eyes, “Usually blood relatives are prioritized when it comes to custody. So I was in line. And I wanted to. I really did.”</p><p>Vriska scoffs but doesn’t comment beyond that.</p><p>“I called a bunch of lawyers. And I fought so hard,” Aranea continues, “but at the time, I was waiting tables at a much shittier restaurant. Meredith wasn’t old enough to help with bills. Not that she has to. I keep telling her she doesn’t have to. I lived in a one-bedroom apartment. Slept on the couch so she could have her own room. We wouldn’t be suitable for a dog, let alone a fifteen-year-old.”</p><p>“Oh,” Vriska sighs. She doesn’t know what else to say.</p><p>“And I asked my dad to help, but he wasn’t a blood relative. And I kept hoping and hoping Hector would come through. He stopped answering my calls. After that, I didn’t feel like I could face you.”</p><p>Vriska puts her head in her hand.</p><p>“Jesus fuck,” she says plainly, “now I’m really sorry for yelling at you.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Aranea repeats, “are you okay, kiddo?”</p><p>“No,” Vriska manages. She doesn't say anything else before leaving.</p><p>This time she does throw up.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m not who I thought I was gonna be<br/>Chase my tail and dreams like a fucking freak<br/>Bite my tongue, how many thoughts you swallow<br/>Twenty seems further than it ought to be<br/>-Twenty by Snarls</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Going Home (Part Two)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is a longer one! after this chapter is when people really start to heal, but this is...a low point. Not the only one, but imo the worst one. I hope you guys enjoy! (Warning for alcoholism)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I think it’s ridiculous that we’re driving down here,” Vriska says, “this was a bad idea. This was a horrifically bad idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have said something six and a half hours ago,” Aranea nags.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure Meredith is okay?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s eighteen years old. She has a job and a car and grocery money, not to mention plenty of DVDs and video games. She’s better off than anyone in this car,” Aranea points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s a pretty low bar,” Vriska hits her head on the back of the seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax. We don’t even have to see her until tomorrow,” Aranea reassures her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prolonging the torture, I see,” Vriska sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, if anyone should be worried, it’s me,” Aranea says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You left. So what? You didn’t help sentence her,” Vriska retorts. It grows quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Aradia clears the silence, “they’re making Chex Mix in sweet flavors now, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Vriska says, “don’t do the thing where you try to make it less awkward.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Aradia redirects her attention out the window. It’s quiet again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She must be so lonely,” Vriska mutters, “man, what am I even gonna say to her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure that-” Aranea starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve spent all this time being angry at her. She’s been dead to me for all this time,” Vriska continues, “what if she’s not, like, the supervillain I’ve made her out to be. What if she’s, you know, just a person. A person who made a lot of mistakes. Who’s gonna be paying for those mistakes for some time and doesn’t need my fucking help being punished.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea doesn’t know what to say to that, so Aradia speaks up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know your mom,” she says, slowly, “but the amount of time you’ve spent crying over her and how shit went down between the two of you is not your fault. She did that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Vriska sort of smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s some friend you’ve got,” Aranea tells Vriska.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Vriska closes her eye, “I know.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dave turns the lamp by his bed on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making noise,” he says into the darkness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not,” Terezi protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re walking around like an insane person,” Dave presses, “why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno about this, man,” Terezi answers fairly limply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You get under the big soft things, and then you close your eyes,” Dave blinks at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The eulogy, Dave,” Terezi groans, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t started on it yet?” Dave asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know. It’s a lot harder to write speeches when you don’t have any convenient way to memorize them,” Terezi sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Dave sits up, “maybe you could just speak from the heart?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the thing,” Terezi says, “I don’t even know what I feel or how to say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know what you feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! I mean...I dunno,” Terezi leans against the wall. She still knows this room like the back of her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk to me, Rez,” It’s quiet and timid. This isn’t the way that Rose tells her she should talk about her feelings. It’s different. Something in it speaks to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was my best friend. And I hurt her-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She hurt you back,” Dave offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hurt her. And she tried to get back into contact with me and patch things up so many times. And I didn’t let her in. And now she’s dead. That’s just a little fucking hard to deal with. I dunno. Maybe if we’d been talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that to yourself,” Dave says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe it’s part of the grieving process,” Terezi can feel herself start to cry. She doesn’t hear him get up, but there’s a hand on her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he says, “don’t do that to yourself, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know there’s nothing you could say that could convince me that I shouldn’t blame myself,” Terezi half laughs. She’s sobbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that to yourself,” he pulls her into a hug. She hugs him back, putting her head on his chest. They hold each other and cry for a very long time.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“I can’t do this,” Vriska says, “I’m not strong enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are,” Aranea says. Of course, she doesn’t know Vriska well enough to make that assessment. Vriska takes the encouragement anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you guys sure you don’t need me to come in?” Aradia asks, “Like, for moral support?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done enough,” Vriska says. Aradia thinks she means it. It’s hard to tell. She doesn’t hold it against Vriska.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?” Aranea asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready,” Vriska nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The visitation area is a little smaller than Vriska would have expected. She sees her mom, sitting there. She looks smaller than Vriska would have expected, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waves them over. Her smile is as bright as ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” she says. Her eyes shine from behind her glasses. Charlotte always did have the prettiest eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, mom,” Aranea sort of waves at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Vriska keeps her guard up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sit,” she instructs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girls do as they are told.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been so long,” Charlotte ashes her cigarette, “I barely recognized you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a very long time,” Aranea nods, “we’re bound to look different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What finally clued you in, the eyepatch or the arm?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A mother knows,” she says, “listen, I don’t have long. You guys are coming back, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want,” Aranea adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do,” she grins, “but, point is, I don’t have long. What are my girls up to nowadays?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you know, leaving a trail of broken hearts, making bank on disability,” Vriska is being sarcastic. Her mother laughs, it doesn’t feel as funny when her mother laughs at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meredith is juggling her job and her schoolwork quite well. We’re hoping to apply for a mortgage next year,” Aranea offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meredith,” Charlotte repeats, “where is my only grandchild, by the way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’ll come,” Aranea assures her, “when she’s ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have had eighteen years to wait for her to be ready,” Charlotte says, and Aranea braces herself for whatever manipulative thing about to come out of her mother’s mouth. “I can wait however long it takes before she’s ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea sighs in relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to have a real relationship with her. Not one built out of obligation, you know?” Charlotte tilts her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Aranea smiles, “oh, ma, it means the world to me that you’d say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where was that energy while we were growing up?” Vriska laughs, like it’s a lighthearted barb, but it isn’t. She’s being mean on purpose to see what her mother will do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing I can do about the way I raised you now,” Charlotte points out. A clever deflection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How come you didn’t tell me about Hector?” she blurts out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vriska!” Aranea is slightly shocked. Charlotte’s mouth twitches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to answer all of your questions. I promise I will. But I have to go now,” Charlotte says. She doesn’t stand, almost as if she’s waiting for permission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to know now,” Vriska presses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be around for longer tomorrow,” Charlotte continues, “I didn’t want us to spend our whole first visit talking about drama and going over it. Rehashing it. This is the first time I have seen you in five years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska considers this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Ma,” she sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, pudding,” Charlotte smiles softly, “I’ll see you tomorrow. And you, Aranea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands, and walks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, mom,” Aranea’s voice scratches as she says it. Charlotte simply turns back towards them and smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was better than Vriska had thought it was going to be.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The service is small. A lot of the people who loved Nepeta are already dead. Terezi feels like she’s being watched. It might be paranoia. Nepeta was cremated. There’s an urn up ahead from where Terezi is sitting. She feels like that’s staring at her, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can remember that conversation. They’d had it after Terezi’s mom died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like looking at dead bodies,” Nepeta had said, “they creep me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think urns are creepier,” Terezi replied, not looking up, “I mean, what’s creepier than your body being burned?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What would I care about my body being burned? I’ll be dead,” Nepeta pointed out, “the point is, I don’t want anyone looking at my dead body, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re really tactful, you know that?” Terezi asked, “My mother is dead. And you’re talking about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mom would have thought that was very practical of me,” Nepeta closed her eyes, “anyway, I think my urn should be covered in hello kitty stickers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made you laugh!” Nepeta beamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi lets go of her iron grip on her chair. It’s time for her to speak. Dave stands first, offering her his elbow to link onto. They make their way to the podium. Terezi digs her claws into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I was a little surprised when Meulin told me that I was gonna be speaking,” Terezi clears her throat, “I’m sure a lot of the people here don’t like me much. And that’s fine. But she chose me to speak, and who am I to disregard her wishes, right? I’ve written one other eulogy in my life. Of course, she died when I still had my eyesight. It’s a lot easier to write a speech, when, you know, you can actually write the speech.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave leans forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I had the same issue now as I did then. I can’t pick out one moment that describes Nepeta because I’ve known her my whole life. Our mothers were best friends before we were born, we grew up together. And the memories that sprung to mind, well,” Terezi pauses, “I dunno. I guess, when someone dies, you think about all of those times you were talking about death in a teenage existential way. You know, back when it was fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clicks her tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I’m up really late last night and all of my pacing and mumbling to myself wakes Dave up. If you don’t know Dave, he’s Nepeta’s other best friend. I used to joke about that after we broke up, she got Meulin and I got Dave. Well, anyway, suddenly I’m crying and Dave’s crying and we just keep each other crying for a little bit and by the time I’m done crying, I’m exhausted and dehydrated, so I go to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I get up, It’s not easy, but I get up. And I go downstairs to get my breakfast, and I’m still lost. I’m just sitting there. Thinking. And I can’t tell Meulin or Leo or Junior about it, because they’re not even eating, they’re so upset. So, I go back upstairs and I talk to Vriska, who is my friend from my support group back home. And she’s already got a lot on her plate. And she’s nice enough to ask me how the eulogy is coming along. And I tell her, I’ve got too many jokes in the unacceptable pile and not enough in the acceptable pile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a cough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, she asks me why I’m writing jokes for a funeral eulogy, and I stop and it hits me that the reason I want to tell jokes for her is because Nepeta likes to cheer people up. Liked, I guess. It’s all she wanted to do. And, well, that was the first thing that had me reminiscing. I dunno how many of you know this, but Nepeta used to make these cookies. Snickerdoodles, German chocolate, shortbread. But my favorite kind of cookies were always the thumbprints.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I remember the first experience of loss that I had, My dad had passed away before that, but I don’t remember my dad, so he doesn’t really count. I mean. Whatever. Anyway, the recipes that Nepeta used were given to her by my older sister. And man, Latula loved Nepeta. They were so inseparable. And my mom had been keeping it together pretty well, but one afternoon after the funeral, we caught my mom tearing apart the fridge trying to see if she had any more of the cookies my sister made.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks.</span>
</p><p><span>“She didn’t. And she just breaks down crying. And as I’m trying</span> <span>to comfort her, Nepeta tells my mom that she knows how. And she obviously doesn’t believe her right away, but she tells us that Latula taught her. And Latula made her promise not to tell, but she said she would show my mom if it made her feel better. Obviously, Nepeta was only six. So, she couldn’t cook or anything. So it was just a thing Nepeta and my mom did together.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“She was the first person to make me laugh after my mom died, too. It was a tireless effort. I mean, it was probably a few weeks after the funeral. She brought up how she wanted to be cremated when she died. She didn’t want to have an open casket. And then she made a joke about how she would have to customize the urn. And the way she said she would do that was with Hello Kitty stickers. And that just made me laugh. And I felt horrible for laughing the second it happened, but I was already laughing. So, I just kept laughing. That moment sneaks up on me during meetings and lessons and stuff. And obviously, you can’t tell people why you’re laughing when it’s that. But, you know, that was Nepeta.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lowers her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was Nepeta. And I obviously can’t see it, and I bet it doesn’t, but I can imagine her fighting with Meulin as she often did from the afterlife and saying I asked for one thing, I can’t believe you forgot my Hello Kitty stickers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, people do laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Things were rocky with Nepeta and me toward the end. But leave it to her to say that I should be the one to speak. The last thing she ever did for me was to give me an olive branch. You know, and she got the last word. She just wanted to let me know after all the fighting that...we were okay. That we’re still best friends. And if you want an example of who Nepeta was, that’s it. And I just wish that, you know, she could be around to hear me say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steps away from the podium.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>On the way back to the hotel, Aranea strikes up a conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we going to talk about what happened back there?” she asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t come down here to fight with Mom, and I know you didn’t either,” Aranea continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, can we not talk about this?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vriska,” Aranea sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I didn’t exactly go about confronting her in the best way, alright?” Vriska huffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, exactly, were you attempting to accomplish?” Aranea switches gears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vriska,” Aranea warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just,” Vriska hesitates, “I feel like we deserved more of an apology than we got.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet for a minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Aranea admits, “but that doesn’t mean the way to get it-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is trying to force it out of her,” Vriska finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be better tomorrow,” she promises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Aranea blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it. This is really important to me,” Aranea adds, “I know you and mom have a really complicated history. So it means a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” Vriska looks out the window, “you’re welcome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if you don’t want to go back tomorrow, I get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s really fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aranea. Hey. I do,” Vriska says, “unless you don’t want me to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if I didn’t want you there, I wouldn’t be able to handle, you know, not having you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Vriska sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m hungry. Aradia, you hungry?” Aranea asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kinda, yeah,” Aradia leans forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think instead of going back to the hotel, we should go get lunch,” Aranea suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s not some sort of masked killer on the hotel premises, is there?” Aradia asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Aranea laughs, “oh. That was a joke. It was funny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Aranea tightens her grip on the wheel, “I just want to spend a little more time with my sister, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Vriska smiles. She stares at the familiar landscape outside her window. Miami is so pretty. It’s been a while. She’s almost forgotten.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dave finds Terezi sitting in Nepeta’s room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Dave says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not thoroughly enough,” Terezi retorts, “I can’t go back out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re worried about people hating you,” he wheels his oxygen tank into the room, “don’t. All everyone can talk about is how beautifully you spoke.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that fragile,” Terezi tenses up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you’re not,” Dave relents, “but it doesn’t change the fact that Meulin would kill you if she caught you in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if it’s part of my grieving process to sit alone in my dead best friend’s room?” Terezi taps the handle of her cane, “Who is she to interfere with my process?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Dave asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, fucking perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just...seem different. You were so composed during the eulogy-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I didn’t actively melt the fuck down during a speech in front of everyone where it would have been goddamn embarrassing to. I must be the picture of perfect mental health.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see your point,” Dave says, “and I’m not mad at you, you know. For what you’re doing. You said you were going to be short with me and I said I was okay with that. I’m not going back on that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was your friend too,” Terezi points out, “why do I have more of a right than you do to flip out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t,” Dave answers, “but you do have the right to it. And you’ve had a really shitty day. But I don’t think that sitting up here by yourself is helping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the thing, though, is it’s not a really shitty day,” Terezi stands, “not for me. This is just another mediocre day. Someone I love is dead? Must be Tuesday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that, Rez.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone dies. What’s the big deal? Oh, except for the fact that Nepeta wasn’t terminal, she didn’t have any chronic health issues. She was fine. She just stepped off of a curb.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how many more people I can handle outliving! That sounds shitty, and selfish, and it is. But I just,” she pauses, “my head is pounding and I can’t hear myself think. You’ve been really great and I’m sorry for yelling at you. But I need to be by myself right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now,” Dave says. He puts a hand on her shoulder. She moves away from it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a baby,” she says, “and if you wanna stay, you can, but I’m having Junior give me a ride to the hotel for tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Dave holds his hands in surrender, “if that’s what you really want to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really do,” Terezi sighs, “thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno. I guess, for not being Rose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not really a compliment,” Dave points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, well, I’m gonna go,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you back at the hotel,” Dave rubs the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” her breathing is shaking. Just a little bit. It would do well for Dave not to prod further, so he doesn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns her phone off.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>The second visit is, true to Charlotte’s word, longer. When they get there, again, she waves them over with a smile on her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Girls,” she greets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Mom,” Aranea smiles at her. The two of them sit down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s your day going?” Charlotte asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. We got breakfast,” Aranea answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me you got those egg sandwiches with that fake cheese,” Charlotte says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, we did,” Vriska replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those are my girls,” Charlotte speaks with such a warmth in her voice that Vriska absolutely cannot fucking stand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what’s up with the traffic out there,” Aranea says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Old people,” Charlotte shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is Miami,” Vriska points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“College students,” Charlotte replies, “listen, I don’t really want to make polite chitchat. I haven’t spoken to either of you in a very long time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Aranea sits up straighter, “what would you like to talk about, Mom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she sighs, “I wanted to sort of make amends with the both of you.  I’m not exactly alright with just moving on like nothing happened. I mean, if that’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Aranea leans forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to say that there’s a lot of hurt feelings there. On both ends,” she begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska and her sister tense as if they are transforming from rag dolls to aluminum poles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I know, you know, I wasn’t the best mom, to either of you. And I wanted to apologize for that. And if we are to move forward here, I want you guys to know that leaving, that testifying against me, water under the bridge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The worst thing, Vriska thinks, is that she’s sort of halfway trying. The worst thing is that it is about as good as it gets for Charlotte. She feels like she might throw up again. But she knows this is important to her sister. She can’t form words. She nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a little unfair, don’t you think?” Aranea’s voice is so quiet, and her eyes go wide as soon as she says it, almost as if it were a mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you mean?” Charlotte furrows her brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Aranea backtracks, “sorry. Forget I said anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I want all of our cards on the table. You’ve got something to say, say it,” Charlotte eggs her on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s really nothing. I don’t want to upset the peace,” Aranea looks everywhere but her mother’s face, “I’m just so, so happy to be talking to you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aranea,” Charlotte warns, “don’t be passive aggressive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Aranea protests. She looks so small like that, cowering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aranea,” Charlotte repeats, “you know I’m not going to let this go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea’s eyes flick up to her mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will walk out of this visit,” Charlotte folds her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Aranea says, “fine. I’ll tell you. I shouldn’t have said it, but I’ll tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea can be talkative, but she’s also much more timid than Vriska is. She almost can’t believe that they’re sisters at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Charlotte is many things. Patient is not one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said,” Aranea manages, “don’t you think that’s a little unfair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is?” Charlotte narrows her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to me!” Aranea clarifies, “No. I’m to blame for what happened between the two of us. I meant Vriska.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vriska says she forgives me,” Charlotte defends. Technically not a lie, but not the truth either. That’s squarely where Charlotte Serket operates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my point,” Aranea’s voice trembles, “she should forgive you, if she wants, but I don’t think that she should have to forgive you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She put me in prison,” Charlotte’s mouth twists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What choice did she have?” Aranea demands, “What was she supposed to do, lie?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know this is lost on you, but we’re a family. And families should stick together,” Charlotte argues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need some air,” Vriska stands up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she gets outside, she waits a very short amount of time to calm down before she calls Terezi. Who, unfortunately for Vriska’s meltdown, seems to be away from her phone at the moment. She calls again, again and again. It takes nearly twenty times before Vriska decides she has to leave a message.</span>
</p><p><span>“Hey, Rez, it’s Vriska. First of all, I hope you’re doing okay. You never called me last night. Which is fine! I’m not saying</span> <span>that we should be, you know, joined at the hip, or anything. But, well, I don’t know if you noticed, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Like, for a full day straight, almost? And, you know, this was your idea, and you’re allowed to backtrack, I’m just saying, uh, please tell me. And call me. Please fucking call me.”</span></p><p>
  <span>She hangs up, feeling as humiliated as a human possibly can be,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn it, Terezi,” she mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vriska?” She hears a voice from behind her that sends a jolt down her spine. She turns around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meenah,” she says, and it’s not really a greeting, or an exclamation. She says it flatly and it hangs in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, I don’t think I’ve seen you since, what?” Meenah seems to be sizing her up. It’s sort of a rude mannerism, but for some reason, perhaps that reason being that it’s Meenah, it doesn’t bother her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The summer after school ended,” Vriska replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve gotten taller,” Meenah tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve gotten, uh,” Vriska scans her for a comment to make, “your hair is short now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” Meenah flicks her hand like she’s holding an invisible cigarette, “after months of Fef begging, I cut my rat tails off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s weird, you almost look like a regular fucking person now,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” Meenah laughs. Not many people can make Meenah Peixes laugh. Well, of course, unless she’s making fun of people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a bleak place to run into you,” Vriska says, “what are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Meenah sighs, “Fef mentioned you guys were coming down here. I didn’t know your hotel, but I figured this was why.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would have been an incredible coincidence, though,” Vriska says, “how desperate can you be that you just fucking showed up here and you’ve been waiting around for god knows how long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you pissed that I wanted to see you?” Meenah asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, fuck, of course not,” Vriska drags her hand down her face, “It’s just. It’s a little heavy in there right now, and if you wanted to get together and catch up, you could have fucking called.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the excitement in that?” Meenah cracks a smile. Jesus Christ, that smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess there isn’t any,” Vriska glances away, “so, what are you up to nowadays?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tattoo artist,” Meenah answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like you always wanted,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve still got the anchor I did?” Meenah asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a tattoo. That’s sorta the basis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was a shittily done tattoo. So, how’s it look?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fading,” Vriska admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you should let me touch it up,” Meenah says, “next time you’re down here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know when that’ll be,” Vriska sighs, “I was thinking about coming to see my mom on a semi-regular basis, but it’s getting pretty heavy in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s tons of excuses to come to Miami,” Meenah leans in, “pick one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Vriska clears her throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vris,” Aranea greets her, “Mom had to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As do I,” Meenah replies, “see you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Vriska gulps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vriska?” Aranea asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Vriska says. It’s not really an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think Mom needs some space,” Aranea closes her eyes, “we were so close. And I blew it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t,” Vriska protests, “thanks for sticking up for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Aranea reopens and shifts her eyes towards her sister, “You’re welcome. I thought I was over the line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did good,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, cool,” Aranea sighs, “do you wanna go hang out at the hotel and watch bad movies on my laptop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck yes,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool. Let’s do that,” Aranea begins walking towards the car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Vriska calls after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I obviously was very little,” she says, “and I don’t remember it. But what went down between you and Mom? I don’t think that was your fault, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea starts walking again.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>When Terezi wakes up, she feels like she’s sweating her ass off. It’s a little odd, it being only fifty degrees outside. She reaches for her phone and turns it on. It’s already noon. She guesses Dave already left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a couple of voice messages waiting for her. One is from Rose, one is from Meulin, and one is from Vriska. There’s a burning at the back of her throat. She’s probably not gonna listen to all three of them. Not first thing, anyway. She sits up and plays the recording that Vriska left. It’s probably the easiest.</span>
</p><p><span>“Hey, Rez, it’s Vriska. First of all, I hope you’re doing okay. You never called me last night. Which is fine! I’m not saying</span> <span>that we should be, you know, joined at the hip, or anything,” God, she’s needy. It’s a mean thought. Terezi should remember to scold herself later on.</span></p><p>
  <span>“But, well, I don’t know if you noticed, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Like, for a full day straight, almost? And, you know, this was your idea, and you’re allowed to backtrack, I’m just saying, uh, please tell me. And call me. Please fucking call me,” click. Terezi throws her phone on the floor, and gets up. She was wrong about being able to handle Vriska right now. She’s too mean. Vriska deserves better than that, at least, by Terezi’s measure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not sure she’ll be able to maneuver breakfast. Dave got here late last night and couldn’t show her around. She reaches into her bag for a granola bar. Maybe she could call Dave. She got really fucking mean last night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, she thinks. He has enough shit going on today.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s gonna be a hard morning. She misses her dog. She misses Rose and her home and her dog and Vriska. But mostly she just misses Nepeta. If she concentrates hard enough, she can hear her voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to do anything tonight?” Nepeta asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah,” Terezi thumbed through her mother’s records, “god, I can’t believe my mom listens to this sort of shit. I mean, Led Zeppelin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Led Zeppelin isn’t too bad,” Nepeta defended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re Led Zeppelin,” Terezi tilted her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you looking through her records if there’s nothing good in there?” Nepeta asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Records are getting popular and shit again,” Terezi shrugged, “and mom said that I can have some of hers if I sort them before taking any. And she’s been collecting for a long time. Like, a lot of these were her dad’s and uncle’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To think, what sort of records your mom was sticking her nose up at,” Nepeta leaned forward on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t think about that for my fucking sanity,” Terezi shuddered, “ew!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Nepeta asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eagles. Lots and lots of Eagles records,” Terezi answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hotel California,” Terezi put the record back in the crate, “oh, but I do like Donna Summer. I’m keeping that one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are so strange,” Nepeta scoffed, “I mean, we’re thirteen. We’re probably gonna be horrifically embarrassed about the sort of music we listen to now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From the bottom of my heart,” Terezi said, “I will never like the Eagles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, this is our evening? Me being bored out of my mind while you sort records?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could help if you want,” Terezi threatened, “oh my god.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhhh my god,” Terezi repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jimmy Buffet,” Terezi held up the record like it was a delicate ancient relic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea who that is,” Nepeta said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are lucky,” Terezi said, taking it out of the sleeve, “and you are also about to find out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure that I want to hear any Jimmy Buffet,” Nepeta protested as Terezi placed the record in the record player.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Son of a son of a sailor played, crackling and skipping as it did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi, this is terrible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. Isn’t it the best?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I will never understand your obsession with bad things. I like to consume things that I enjoy. Your irony poisoning is going to kill you, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Terezi said, “my taste in bad media is incredible and you would do well to respect it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I respect your taste about as much as I respect a youth pastor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna be sorry when I’m a famous pianist and I have millions of dollars and I won’t give any money to you and you’re just sitting there crying in your horrible apartment that will have cockroaches,” Terezi said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that the future from the Barbie Christmas Carol?” Nepeta asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Terezi lied, and they both laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi opens her eyes. She doesn’t know how long she was knocked back out for, just that she feels worse than she did before. Why is she sleeping so much? Is there something wrong with her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears a creak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That had better be Dave,” she says, “I am in no mood to fight off an intruder.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing, Rez?” Dave asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bad,” Terezi answers honestly, “you left without waking me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured you needed the sleep,” Dave shrugs, “but you and I can go get dinner, or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good,” Terezi says, “I’m not sure I’m gonna be doing much leaving of the hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” Dave is lying. But he’s being respectful. She doesn’t press, “look, Rose is willing to video chat this week’s meeting, if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Terezi groans, “I’m not really in the right headspace.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What,” he asks, “do you suppose is the right headspace for a support group meeting?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. Not fucking this,” Terezi lays down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want my input?” Dave asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna share it either way,” Terezi gestures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think venting will help you,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ, I don’t want to vent!” Terezi covers her face with a pillow, “I don’t feel better after I vent. I feel awkward and embarrassed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you feel that way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know!” she yells, “I know there’s something wrong with me. I know! Venting helps some people, it doesn’t help me. Plain and simple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you bottle shit up-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spare me, please,” her voice skirts the line of a whine and a scoff.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Dave sighs, “okay. So, you don’t want to vent. I still think being around people who care about you would help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be around people that care about me. I want to be by myself, okay?” Terezi uncovers her face, “I’m sorry. You keep being nice to me, and I keep being awful to you. It would do you good to be away from me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to take a walk?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to. That’s not fair,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I asked,” Dave points out. Terezi thinks about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Dave kisses the top of her head. She hears him leave. And as soon as the door shuts, she starts crying again.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Vriska!” Rose swings the door open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Lalonde. Sorry about stopping by so late,” Vriska feels weird about pulling her into a hug. She feels weirder just waving or shaking hands. So she resolves to a light arm punch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s only ten. You’re good! How was your trip?” Rose moves aside so that Vriska can walk through the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was weird,” Vriska answers, “man, I missed this place. It smells weird in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dave set a banana on fire,” Rose explains, “don’t ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t planning on it,” Vriska says, “so, where’s Terezi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s in her room,” Rose replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go say hi,” Vriska announces, handing Rose a box of donuts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Rose snorts, “every time I walk by her room or ask her how she is or offer support, she invites me to hell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s very fragile,” Dave agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So am I,” Vriska retorts, and marches towards the back of the apartment. The smell of banana fills her nostrils. She knocks on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to hell,” a muffled Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Vriska,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Terezi answers limply, “listen, if you’re here to offer me condolences-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Vriska cuts her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Terezi repeats, “good. Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did, however, come here to yell at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Terezi demands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me that you wanted to call every day. And then you just dropped off the face of the earth?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My best friend just fucking died,” Terezi points out, “how selfish can you be that you think I should drop everything to talk to you when I’m grieving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was,” Vriska furrows her brow, “your fucking idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I changed my mind,” Terezi is closer to the door now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Maybe it’s selfish of me that I needed you when you’re going through this. Fuck it, it is. But you could have shot me a text or something. Anything. I was worried. I didn’t even go home or shower when my flight landed. I dropped Aradia at my place and I rushed straight over here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you rushed over here, why? To make sure I was okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Because I knew you weren’t,” Vriska answers, “look. I’m not really mad at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can tell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just, you know. I had to see you,” Vriska’s voice is resigned like she’s given something up, “and if you want to call me, you can. And if you don’t, then don’t. I’ll wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi doesn’t reply, but she puts her hand on the door.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Rose finds Terezi up that night, sitting at the kitchen table, staring off into nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Rose greets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Terezi answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re out of your room. That’s good,” she adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Terezi says, “just up for a midnight snack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you doing okay?” Rose asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better,” Terezi mumbles, “thanks for taking care of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the slightest difference in inflection that Rose catches. She freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi, you’re not,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Terezi does her best to act like she has no idea what Rose is talking about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking do that,” Rose snaps. She takes a step closer. Terezi takes a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t come near me,” Terezi says, “I think I’m coming down with something. I don’t want to get you sick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose grabs hold of her and smells her breath. She practically falls backward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe this,” Rose’s voice is quiet, and it’s shaking, but it’s firm all the same, “you’re drunk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not drunk,” Terezi protests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can smell the cheap beer on you,” Rose says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Terezi sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” Rose repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a couple of drinks. But I have a high tolerance. I’m barely buzzed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting drunk,” Rose’s pitch rises against her will, “in this house. In our fucking house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know why you’re freaked out. But I’ve been weaning myself onto it. Moderation is key,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long has this been going on?” Rose grips the edge of the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rose-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Couple of days,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe this,” Rose runs a hand through her hair, “I actually can’t fucking believe this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop freaking out,” Terezi says, “I have it under control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You stopped drinking for a reason,” Rose points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m struggling to remember what that reason was,” Terezi admits, “but I remember why I started. Everything was too loud, you know? My thoughts, they were too loud. I wasn’t sleeping. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t stop picturing Nepeta crossing the street and not making it to the other side. And that was all I could see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Terezi,” Rose can feel her heart starting to break, “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be,” Terezi snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna get you help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know we don’t like AA, but we could check out some of their meetings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rose,” Terezi repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or we could get you to the rehab center. I know there’s one just nearby that doesn’t push the whole god schtick or allow bigotry in the name of free speech, so I could call, and-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rose!” Terezi snaps, “This isn’t something for you to fix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Rose is starting to cry, “it is. I can help you, I can-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” Terezi groans, “please stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s so hard for you right now, and you think nobody understands, but I want to. I want to understand. You just have to let me in,” she wipes her face on her sleeve, “just let me in. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can talk about this in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can talk about it right now,” Rose says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in hysterics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you’re wasted,” Rose retorts, “just, please-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is your fucking problem?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rez-” Rose blinks in surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m seriously asking. What’s your deal? You think you have to fix everyone? Everything would be so much goddamn better if everyone was like you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what your problem is, Rosie? You think that it’s your job to fix everything. You think it’s your job to tell everyone how to act and how to be. You disguise this as helping. And when people fuck up, which we do, because we’re humans, you get to feel betrayed and we get to feel guilty and ashamed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what?” Rose straightens her spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here we go,” Terezi mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to act like this is normal? It’s not. Nothing about this is normal,” Rose says, “and it’s not because of Nepeta. Or maybe it is. Fuck, who gives a shit? You stopped going to meetings, you lashed out and isolated yourself from your friends, you stopped getting out of bed. That’s why you’re self-destructing. Not because of Nepeta. Because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You miss her. And maybe you need to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking tell me what I need to do,” Terezi slams her cane down on the floor. Rose’s shoulders tense. She presses forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That isn’t gonna happen like this. You need to find a good support system. And then you need to get sober. Maybe, after a little while, we can talk about going back to normal. But you’re not yourself right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not your consolation prize for not being able to help your mom, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you,” something in Rose snaps in half, “you know what? I’m fucking tired. I’m tired of being your friend. I’m tired of being your roommate. I’m fucking tired of supporting you. I’m done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can hear Rose walk away. She doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Vriska has been walking by herself, around the same strip of stores for hours now. She said she would be home late. It feels weird to go back on that now, even though her excuse for such has dissipated. She checks her watch. It’s almost two in the morning. She should probably head back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On her way home, she cries practically nonstop. She scolds herself all the while. She has less of a reason than Terezi does to cry, at least. So she scolds herself. This, of course, serves to make the crying worse. Something in her is slipping fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her sister wants to be closer to her, and she wants to be closer to Aranea, but she doesn’t know how to do that when everything they say comes back to her mom. God, her mom. She cannot deal with her mom either. Maybe it’s not true when Vriska says she’s dead. It’s not really untrue, is it? Pretty close, anyway. No, there’s no justifying lying about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she’s just so selfish. Terezi probably hates her for screaming at her while she’s grieving. Why did she fucking do that? Not everything is about her. She knows that. Well, consciously, she’s aware of the fact that not everything revolves around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s never done anything like she’s done this past couple of weeks before. Visiting her sister? Going to see her mom? Getting off a plane and rushing over to see if someone is alright. That is, by far, the most nuts thing that she’s done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a week of stepping out of her comfort zone, and it went dramatically bad. She’s done stepping out of her comfort zone. At least, for a while, anyway. She needs something familiar and comfortable to detox her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aradia buzzes her in, and Vriska spends the elevator ride thinking of ways to apologize to Terezi for being so rude. Whatever, she thinks, stepping out of it, she’ll think of it later. Aradia opens the door. Her expression isn’t exactly happy, nor that weird sympathetic sad expression that people have been giving Vriska since she was fifteen years old. It’s something in between. Something that manages to soften Vriska.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cannot explain nor justify her next action. She leans down,  lifts Aradia’s chin, and kisses her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, uh,” man, if Aradia could blush, “it was nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Vriska sighs, “I’m gonna do it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Aradia replies. And Vriska kisses her again. And then again. Vriska kicks the door closed behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"I've been running around in circles<br/>Pretending to be myself<br/>Why would somebody do this on purpose<br/>When they could do something else?<br/>Drowning out the morning birds<br/>With the same three songs over and over<br/>I wish I wrote it, but I didn't so I learn the words<br/>Hum along 'til the feeling's gone forever</p><p>Took a tour to see the stars<br/>But they weren't out tonight<br/>So I wished hard on a Chinese satellite<br/>I want to believe<br/>Instead, I look at the sky and I feel nothing<br/>You know I hate to be alone<br/>I want to be wrong"<br/>-Chinese Satellite by Phoebe Bridgers</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Sugar the Pill</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There is one walk of shame that pales all others. Does not even fall on the same wavelength. The walk of shame out of your office after you’ve been fired? Walking to the bus station after sleeping with someone you shouldn’t have slept with? Going to your room after you get in trouble with your mom? </p><p>It’s nothing. It’s absolutely nothing in comparison to walking to your bathroom after spending the previous night sitting alone in your room bawling your eyes out. Terezi was hoping not being able to see herself, not looking herself in the eye in the mirror might help. It doesn’t. </p><p>Slowly, the events of the previous night begin stringing themselves together. They’re fuzzy. But they are there. She fought with Rose. It was bad. Really bad. </p><p>She brushes her teeth a little slower than she needs to and reminds herself this isn’t the first time she’s fucked up. She isn’t sure whether to see this as a vice or a virtue. On the one hand, she knows that she’s always been forgiven before. On the other hand, she knows that forgiveness is conditional, and it runs out. She knows that from personal experience.</p><p>Where are her priorities, anyway? She’s thinking about forgiveness before amends. Her head hurts. Her priorities deserve to be a little scrambled. She puts on deodorant. No shower today. It wouldn’t help. She hears a knock on her door.</p><p>“Rose?” Terezi asks, half hopeful, half afraid.</p><p>“No,” Dave replies, “can I come in?”</p><p>She doesn’t lock the door. Dave knocks. He always knocks. </p><p>“You gonna yell at me?” Terezi asks. Dave hesitates.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Terezi, despite herself, appreciates his honesty.</p><p>“You can come in,” she finally says. </p><p>Dave opens the door. Terezi can tell by the way his breathing sounds that he slept about as well as Terezi did, maybe worse.</p><p>“You look like hell,” he says, “are you feeling okay?”</p><p>“I fucking hate hangovers,” she replies, which doesn’t and does answer Dave’s question, “I would say it’s the worst part, but it isn’t, not for people like me.”</p><p>“Would you like a hug?” Dave asks. It’s a little robotic.</p><p>“Would you like to give me one?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“Then you don’t have to,” Terezi sighs, “how is she?”</p><p>“She…” Dave trails off, “I want you to know that I’m not taking sides in this. I know addiction is rough. I know that you say things you don’t mean and it sucks but it’s not like, you know, you.”</p><p>“Dave,” Terezi presses.</p><p>“But that said, you shouldn’t have brought beer into our house. You know better than to do that,” he continues.</p><p>“You’re angry with me,” Terezi says. It’s not accusatory. It’s matter of fact.</p><p>“You hurt my sister. Yeah, I’m pissed,” he admits, “but this isn’t about me. It’s about her, and it’s about you.”</p><p>“You said you weren’t taking sides,” and she knows that’s not fair of her to say. And he should take Rose’s side. It’s okay that he is, but he says he’s not. </p><p>“This isn’t about me,” he repeats.</p><p>“I fucked up,” Terezi says.</p><p>“You were devastated,” Dave defends.</p><p>“So were you,” Terezi points out.</p><p>“Please don’t make me do this,” Dave rubs his temples.</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“This. I don’t want to sit here defending you. I don’t want to argue with you and tell you how good I think you are. Not right now.”</p><p>“Is she awake yet?” Terezi redirects the conversation back towards Rose.</p><p>“She is,” Dave’s tone falters at the end, like he has more to say. He doesn’t.</p><p>“Can I talk to her?” </p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Dave-”</p><p>“No!” he repeats, “She doesn’t want to talk to you right now. Even if she did, she’s not here.”</p><p>“She’s not?” Terezi’s eyes sting, “Is she out running errands?”</p><p>“She…” Dave sighs, “Ah, shit, Terezi. I don’t know what to tell you. It’s temporary.”</p><p>“Dave,” Terezi’s tone is firmer now, “where is she?”</p><p>“She’s gonna stay at Roxy’s,” Dave finally says.</p><p>“For how long?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Did she say anything to you before she left?”</p><p>“No. She got her things in the middle of the night and woke me up with a phone call.”</p><p>“What did she say?”</p><p>“That she needs time. And space,” he says, “she wants you to get help. Rehab. She has already made arrangements.”</p><p>“Dave,” Terezi siezes. </p><p>“It’s a really nice one. Non-denominational. For real, not like these other ones.”</p><p>“Dave,” Terezi repeats.</p><p>“You only have to have one roommate, it’s three hot meals a day.”</p><p>“Dave.”</p><p>“Six week program,” he continues, “what are you giving me that look for?”</p><p>“I am not going to rehab,” she says, “I’m completely under control.”</p><p>“I talked...to the woman on the phone. She’s expecting you this afternoon,” Dave continues as if she never spoke.</p><p>“You can’t make me go and you know that,” she says. </p><p>“I know,” he huffs, “I know.”</p><p>“So...that’s it? You’re not gonna make me?”</p><p>“No, I’m not gonna make you,” Dave rubs the back of his neck. </p><p>“Great,” Terezi snaps.</p><p>“I’m not done,” Dave raises his voice. He never, ever raises his voice. Not like this. Terezi freezes where she stands.</p><p>“I was patient with you. I didn’t force anything on you. I let you cry, scream, be awful to me because I love you and you’re my best friend and you were going through rough shit. But you hurt my sister.”</p><p>Terezi is silent.</p><p>“You told her that you were a consolation prize to her. That she’s helping you because she couldn’t help her mom,” Dave’s voice is calmer than it should be. Terezi doesn’t remember doing that. She doesn’t put it past herself, either.</p><p>“Dave-” </p><p>“Rose’s mom died of alcohol poisoning. Are you even remotely aware how unacceptable what you said to her was?”</p><p>“I really said that?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“I’m giving you a choice,” he says, “six weeks. You pack your bags and you don’t come back. You can go to rehab, you can crash on someone’s house. But you can’t stay here. Not right now.”</p><p>“You’re...kicking me out?”</p><p>“It’s not like that.”</p><p>“What is it like?”</p><p>“Pack a damn bag, Terezi,” she hears him close the door.</p><hr/><p>Aradia wakes up before her eyes open. She can feel herself sweating. Why is she boiling to death? Her head is pounding. Maybe she should go back to sleep. That’s when she feels an arm on her. Oh shit.</p><p>She opens her eyes, and suddenly the events of the previous evening come rushing back to her. Vriska isn’t awake. As carefully as she can, she lifts Vriska’s arm off of her. Vriska rolls over but does not wake up. Carefully, Aradia slides into her wheelchair next to the bed, grabbing her phone off the “nightstand” while she does. She considers her options. A wheelchair does not exactly make a quick getaway easy. She looks around.</p><p>Her eyes land on the bathroom. The door is ajar, thank god, and she wheels to safety as fast as she can. How could she let this happen? She can’t believe she let this happen. </p><p>It isn’t long before her phone starts ringing, and she moves as quickly as possible to answer it.</p><p>“Hey,” Damara greets her.</p><p>“Where the fuck have you been?” Aradia whispers.</p><p>“Woah. Sorry. Hours ran late, and I didn’t want to wake you, so I crashed at Amy’s,” Damara explains, “sorry I didn’t call you.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Aradia drags her free hand down her face.</p><p>“Wait, why are you whispering?” Damara asks.</p><p>“Well, uh,” Aradia peeks her head out of the bathroom, “I sort of have a guest.”</p><p>“A guest?” Damara asks, “Like how I was a guest at Amy’s or, like, sock on the door-”</p><p>“This is a nightmare,” Aradia groans.</p><p>“Come on. it’s as much my apartment as it is yours,” Damara says, “you have a guest over, but you’ve gotta tell me what’s up.”</p><p>Aradia gently nudges the door shut.</p><p>“Okay,” Aradia sighs, “you have to promise not to judge me.”</p><p>“I will do no such thing.”</p><p>“Damara,” Aradia closes her eyes.</p><p>“Fine, no judging,” Damara promises.</p><p>“Well,” Aradia considered throwing her phone at the wall. It would buy her some time if her phone was broken, “I sort of...slept with Vriska.”</p><p>“You didn’t,” Damara says.</p><p>“I did,” Aradia sighs.</p><p>“Aradia, did it occur to you how bad of an idea that is? Did you even think about the consequences? You have been in love with her since high school. And she has never given you the time of day-”</p><p>“You promised you weren’t going to judge me,” Aradia points out.</p><p>“Fine. Not judging. Even though I-”</p><p>“Zip. It,” Aradia clenches her teeth.</p><p>“Oh my god.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Oh. My. God.”</p><p>“What, Damara?”</p><p>“Your room isn’t finished. There’s still paint cans everywhere and furniture with the plastic bags and I haven’t even moved my easel,” Damara gasps, “oh sweet lord you did it on my futon.”</p><p>“Did it?” Aradia scoffs, “What are you, twelve?”</p><p>“I’m not using the ‘s’ word during a conversation with my sister,” Damara says, “just because siblings on tv do it-”</p><p>“I have never understood that,” Aradia interjects.</p><p>“Anyway, what are you going to do?”</p><p>“She’s still asleep right now. Do you think if I can get her onto a gurney and roll her back to her apartment, she’ll buy that’s where she went to sleep?”</p><p>“I think you’re more confident in your lifting abilities than I am,” Damara says, “okay. Here’s what you’re going to do. When she wakes up, you’re gonna tell her that last night was nice-”</p><p>“It was.”</p><p>“Then you’re gonna tell her that it doesn’t mean anything.”</p><p>“Of course it meant something!” Aradia protests.</p><p>“It did. Of course it did. But you don’t know what she’s feeling.”</p><p>“Damara, <em> she </em> kissed <em> me </em>.”</p><p>“But this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. New years-”</p><p>“She had nobody else to kiss! It’s tradition!” Aradia defends.</p><p>“Okay, graduation then?” Damara asks.</p><p>“That...we didn’t know what was gonna happen next so it was really more of a goodbye.”</p><p>“Her birthday?”</p><p>“She was really drunk.”</p><p>“Aradia!” Damara scolds.</p><p>“It’s different,” Aradia catches herself in the mirror.</p><p>“Every time you guys kiss, you get in your head about what it means,” Damara says, “I’m not saying Vriska is evil or anything. She’s just reckless and she doesn’t think about these things affecting you. She doesn’t know, sweetie.”</p><p>“She’s never...we’ve never,” Aradia sputters, “we’ve only ever kissed before.”</p><p>“And that’s great. It is. But you’ve gotta come in swinging. Tell her it doesn’t have to mean anything, and let her move the conversation from there.”</p><p>“Okay,” Aradia sighs.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Okay, I’m still gonna be a bit. But I love you, Ari,” Damara says.</p><p>“Love you too, bye,” click.</p><p>Well, that was one awkward convo down. The kitchen sink is running. How long has it been running?</p><p>“Hi,” Vriska greets Aradia in the kitchen, “sorry, you were talking on the phone.”</p><p>Oh, god. Busted.</p><p>“I didn’t hear anything, I swear!” Vriska continues, “But I wanted coffee, and I knew where all the stuff was-”</p><p>“It’s fine, Vriska,” Aradia assures her.</p><p>“Are you okay? You look upset,” Vriska grabs her favorite of Aradia’s mugs out of the cabinet. </p><p>Damara made it for Aradia’s birthday, painstakingly hand-painting each letter on. The result was a mug that simply says “Don’t Speak To Me Until I’ve Been Boiled For Nutrients”. It always makes Vriska laugh. She hands Aradia the mug that is shaped like Kermit the frog’s head, only he’s dressed like a reporter and his cap says “muppet news." That one was a gift from her grandfather, something he had no use for and had owned a very long time.</p><p>“I’m okay,” Aradia takes a breath. Here goes, “last night was nice.”</p><p>“It was,” Vriska smiles, “it really was.”</p><p>“And I wanted you to know. That I know you and I know you’re not like...what I’m saying is I don’t expect anything.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Vriska furrows her brow.</p><p>“I mean it’s okay. You know, it was just a nice night, and it doesn’t have to, you know, mean anything,” why is she so bad at this?</p><p>“Aradia,” Vriska sets down her mug.</p><p>“No, I know. It was just, you know, we feel safe with each other and I know you were just looking for companionship and it not meaning anything is okay.”</p><p>“Aradia,” Vriska sets her mug down, “that’s the thing. Hey, look at me.”</p><p>Aradia does.</p><p>“I don’t want it to not mean anything,” Vriska says.</p><p>Aradia goes silent. She goes silent for a very long time.</p><p>“Uh, Aradia?” </p><p>“I heard you,” Aradia squeaks out, “I’m just not sure I understand.”</p><p>She clears her throat.</p><p>“Okay,” Vriska puts a hand on her shoulder, “okay. What I mean is that you’re my best friend, and I love you. And I know we’ve kissed in the past, but I’ve never really looked at you...that way.”</p><p>Aradia’s stomach drops. If she needs to, she can throw up in the Kermit mug.</p><p>“But lately, I don’t know...” Vriska’s hand is shaking, “I think I’m starting to.”</p><p>Oh my god. What?</p><p>“Are you breathing?”</p><p>“I’m breathing,” Aradia manages, “so, what does that...what are you trying to say?”</p><p>“I’m trying to say that,” Vriska sighs, “fuck, this is hard. I’m saying that I wanna go for it. With you. I mean, if you want to.”</p><p>“Okay?” </p><p>“That wasn’t a very enthused answer.”</p><p>“You didn’t really ask a question,” Aradia points out.</p><p>“Right,” Vriska sighs. She sits, “okay. Well...Aradia Megido, will you be my girlfriend?”</p><p>Girlfriend. Wow.</p><p>“I,” Aradia heaves, “would love to.”</p><p>Vriska beams and kisses her.</p><p>Vriska’s phone is ringing.</p><p>“Are you gonna get that?” Aradia asks. Vriska kisses her again.</p><p>“I have a girlfriend. I never have to answer that phone as long as I live.”</p><p>It goes to voicemail, pauses, and begins ringing again.</p><p>“It’s gonna drive me nuts if you don’t answer that phone,” Aradia says.</p><p>“Fine,” Vriska groans. It’s Dave. Huh, weird.</p><p>“Vriska,” he greets.</p><p>“Hey,” she mutters, “what’s up?”</p><p>“Well, I know you and Terezi are fighting, but you’re sorta still friends?”</p><p>“Worst greeting ever,” Vriska sighs.</p><p>“We’re checking her into rehab this afternoon, and I thought you should know,” he continues.</p><p>“She has nine months, she can’t go to rehab!” Vriska’s pitch rises. Aradia gives her a concerned look.</p><p>“She backslid a couple of days ago,” Dave explains, “it’s a six-week program, inpatient, and I’m texting you the number of the place and her ID number if you wanna leave a message and your number for her.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Vriska leans against the counter, “yeah, of course.”</p><p>“I’ll call you tomorrow if that’s okay, in case she doesn’t.”</p><p>“Okay. Thanks. You’re a good guy,” Vriska’s voice is shaking a little. Dave doesn’t seem to notice.</p><p>“Cool. Hey, listen, I’ve gotta go.”</p><p>“Yeah, for sure,” Vriska nods, “it was good talking to you. I mean, it was bad, but-”</p><p>“I get what you mean.”</p><p>“Later.”</p><p>“Bye.”</p><p>“Who was that?” Aradia asks.</p><p>“That,” Vriska sets her phone down, “was real life.”</p><p>“Oh, I hate that motherfucker,” Aradia shakes her head. Vriska smiles, but she doesn’t really mean it.</p><hr/><p>“This place had better have vending machines,” Terezi holds a pamphlet like she’s reading it. Really, she’s trying to decide how bad of a papercut she would need to require stitches.</p><p>“It has vending machines,” Roxy says, “ones with braille on them.”</p><p>It goes sorta silent.</p><p>“You’ve stayed here?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Many times,” Roxy answers, and it makes Terezi a little sad, “some of us are addicted to treatment centers, am I right?”</p><p>Terezi nods.</p><p>“I spoke with your counselor on the phone. Her name is Bobby. She’s worked here forever. I love her,” Roxy continues, “you’re gonna love her, too. She’s a riot.”</p><p>“I had better,” Terezi says. She feels the car stop.</p><p>“Well, it’s now or never,” Roxy sighs, taking her keys out and kicking the door open. </p><p>Terezi grabs her cane and climbs out.</p><p>“I can handle my luggage,” Terezi announces as Roxy pops the trunk. </p><p>“Okay!” Roxy chirps as she hands the luggage over, “And I already cleared your LVAD on the phone.”</p><p>“Great,” Terezi’s voice finds no enthusiasm. Roxy is helping, she reminds herself. Roxy is helping.</p><p>“I’m just gonna walk you in, if that’s okay,” Roxy says, locking the car, “even if it’s not, I have the information. Asking if it’s okay is sorta a formality.”</p><p>“I know, Rox,” Terezi sighs and links arms with Roxy as she guides her into the building and towards the front desk.</p><p>“Roxanne?” the guy asks, a very old man working the front desk, “You’d better not be checking in.”</p><p>“Nope,” Roxy nudges Terezi forward.</p><p>“Hi, I’m Terezi Pyrope,” she says, “plans were made in advance for me, so I must be getting pretty </p><p>“Of course! Let me just get you checked right in,” he taps rapidly on his computer.</p><p>“You haven’t aged a day, Bill,” Roxy says.</p><p>“You flatter me, kid. I don’t believe it, but you flatter me,” he laughs, “you look great. The last time you were here you were this frail, sickly little thing.”</p><p>“I’ve grown up,” Roxy says.</p><p>“That you have,” he grumbles, “ah, Miss Pyrope. There you are. Now, I’ll just grab you the red tape, and you should be able to head into Bobby’s office no time flat.”</p><p>“Actually, Bill, she can’t sign the paperwork,” Roxy interjects, “she’s blind.”</p><p>“You can fill it out, then,” Bill says, “and Miss Pyrope, you can walk right into Bobby’s office.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Terezi says. Roxy leads her to the office, a little room that smells like coffee just to the right of the lobby.</p><p>“Hello, Roxanne,” a woman’s voice greets, “hello, Terezi Pyrope, I presume.”</p><p>“That’s me,” Terezi nods.</p><p>“I’ll be right in the lobby. You can holler for me when you’re done, okay?” Roxy says.</p><p>“Sounds alright,” Terezi says. Roxy closes the door behind her.</p><p>“Well, have a seat, Terezi Pyrope,” Bobby instructs. Her tone seems like she’s attempting to be friendly, but it comes off a little like Terezi is being mocked.</p><p>“Call me Rez,” Terezi feels her way to a chair. It’s a very uncomfortable chair.</p><p>“Rez, then,” Bobby waves a hand, “first and foremost, may I just say, welcome to our treatment center.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Terezi says.</p><p>“It’s very simple; I am going to ask you a few questions about your history and what brought you here. You will take a physical and a detox test, after which you will go to your room, and after your bag gets searched you may get settled in. There is a group meeting you are required to attend at seven o'clock this evening and we encourage you to eat before you go to bed. That doesn’t always occur to people.”</p><p>“Sounds easy enough,” Terezi says.</p><p>“Good,” Bobby taps a pen on her desk, “so, tell me, what is it that you hope to accomplish during your stay?”</p><p>“I dunno.”</p><p>“You don’t know?”</p><p>“That’s what I said,” Terezi nods.</p><p>“I encourage you to dig a bit deeper,” Bobby tells her, “what would you like to change about the person who walked into this building?”</p><p>“I guess,” Terezi sighs, “I hurt my best friend. She doesn’t even want to speak to me. I want to fix it.”</p><p>“And you believe sobriety will help you make amends?” Bobby asks.</p><p>“Yeah. Amends. Sobriety. Good stuff,” she leaves out the part where Dave told her she has nowhere to go but here.</p><p>“When did you start using?” Bobby presses on.</p><p>“That’s kind of a hard answer,” Terezi admits.</p><p>“That’s alright,” Bobby assures her.</p><p>“I mean, I guess my first drink was during junior high. But I know that’s not really what you mean,” Terezi says, “and I guess I started getting drunk every night right after my mom died.”</p><p>“Were you close, you and your mother?” </p><p>She’s being psychoanalyzed. Save it for group, she thinks.</p><p>“Yes,” Terezi answers, flatly.</p><p>“Do you struggle with any mental disorders?” Bobby scribbles down some notes.</p><p>“Depression,” Terezi answers, “PTSD too.”</p><p>“And, I assume based on your answer earlier, that your vice is alcohol?” Bobby asks.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Any specific kind hold a presence over you?”</p><p>“It was gin for a while,” Terezi replies, “now it’s anything and everything I can get my hands on.”</p><p>“I see,” Bobby says. </p><p>“What’s yours?” Terezi asks.</p><p>“Pardon?” Bobby’s eyebrows meet the tops of her oversized glasses.</p><p>“Your vice?” Terezi shrugs, “I mean, you’ve gotta have one, right?”</p><p>Bobby laughs.</p><p>“I did cocaine for twenty-five years,” she says, “and I’ve been sober for fifteen.”</p><p>Terezi wonders how old she is. The younger she is, the sadder it is.</p><p>Bobby asks her a few more mildly invasive questions and then lists the things she’s not allowed to have in rehab. After taking her test and physical, Bobby meets back up with her to lead her to her room.</p><p>“There is a chart of what chores each person is expected to do. It rotates. But I don’t expect you to do much of that, given, well…” she trails off.</p><p>“You can say the word blind,” Terezi says, “it’s okay. I have known I’m blind for some time.”</p><p>“Right,” Bobby presses forward, “cleaning is generally done at four in the afternoon. That will give you a blank space to do whatever you like, as long as you do not leave the facility. Otherwise, your schedule is packed. You will wake up at seven am, get dressed, and eat at seven-thirty to eight at the very latest. Normally, after that, you would journal. But I don’t expect you to write, and we have banned tape recorders, so you will meet with me and tell me about your progress and I will journal for you for about thirty minutes.”</p><p>This is already a fucking nightmare, thinks Terezi.</p><p>“At eight-thirty, you will have exercise. You may take a leisurely supervised walk outside, which I will also join you for. At nine am, there will be a forty-five-minute lecture, after which there will be an hour of group therapy. At eleven in the morning, there will be music therapy. At noon, lunch.”</p><p>Terezi, she will admit, is a little relieved at the idea of music therapy. She hopes they have a piano.</p><p>“At one pm, there will be counseling. Two pm, you will be allowed to make phone calls. You are encouraged at this time to call your family, provided you have supervision. The phone area will be locked at any other time of day, and at two-thirty to three-thirty, there will be relapse prevention. Four pm to four-thirty is cleaning, but for you, as I said, it is a blank space. Four-thirty to six is peer evaluation and group therapy. At six you will have dinner. Seven, there will be a support group. At eight you may retire to your room. Lights out will be at midnight, here is your key card. If it doesn’t scan, flip it.”</p><p>Jesus. Fucking. Christ.</p><p>“As I said, though, you got a late start. But as I said, the seven o'clock meeting you are required to attend and do try to eat. Your room has a washroom, do try to keep showers down to less than ten minutes.”</p><p>“Who needs to shower for ten minutes?” Terezi asks. </p><p>“These people are animals, Rez,” Bobby opens the door.</p><p>“Oh, hi!” a voice greets. It’s got some rasp to it, but it’s sorta high pitched too.</p><p>“Introduce yourself to your roommate,” Bobby instructs.</p><p>“Sorry,” the voice approaches, “I’m Gigi!”</p><p>“Terezi. But you can call me Rez,” Terezi says.</p><p>“Cool name!” Gigi says.</p><p>“Thanks,” Terezi says.</p><p>“I’ll let you two get to know each other. I’ve given Gigi the day off,” Bobby says.</p><p>“Thanks again,” Terezi says.</p><p>Bobby closes the door. </p><p>“So, what’re you in for?” Gigi asks.</p><p>“Alcohol,” Terezi answers.</p><p>“Methamphetamine,” Gigi responds, “but that’s not what I meant.”</p><p>“What did you mean?” Terezi raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Well, I’m here because of a court order,” Gigi explains, “drove my car into a lamp post.”</p><p>“Yikes,” Terezi says, “well, not that it’s any of your business, but my roommate said it was rehab or I was looking for a new place to live.”</p><p>“Ouch,” Gigi says.</p><p>“Yeah,” Terezi sighs.</p><p>“Do you want candy?” Gigi asks.</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“Candy,” Gigi takes in a dramatically deep breath, “I’ve got red vines, m&amp;ms, airheads, jujubes, Mike and Ikes, hot tamales, sour patch kids, gushers, starbursts, jolly ranchers, and gummies of the worm, bear, shark, peach, and orange variety.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” Terezi says, “who are you, Willy Wonka?”</p><p>“Oh, no,” Gigi laughs, “it’s to curb my cravings. Sugar is a recovering meth addict’s best friend.”</p><p>“Somehow, I don’t think Gentlemen Prefer Blondes would be as much of a classic as it is if Marilyn had sung that.”</p><p>Gigi laughs again.</p><p>“So?” Gigi asks.</p><p>“Oh, I’ll take some starbursts,” Terezi answers, “thanks.”</p><p>“Yeah. And don’t worry, I don’t feel weird about sharing a room with you if you don’t feel weird about it with me,” Gigi continues.</p><p>“Why would I feel weird about it?”</p><p>“Oh, because I’m seventeen,” Gigi explains. Terezi sort of freezes, so Gigi adds, “that’s not weird for us to share, is it? Because I have no problem switching rooms as long as Bobby doesn’t. I usually have my own, but we’re full.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Terezi says, “I don’t mind.”</p><p>“Alright, well, you don’t have to gawk,” Gigi tells her.</p><p>“I’m not gawking. I’m physically incapable of gawking, as I am blind,” Terezi points out.</p><p>“Right, sorry,” Gigi says, “it’s just that people tend to look at me like a headless chicken when I tell them I’m a seventeen-year-old recovering meth addict.”</p><p>“I was a sixteen-year-old alcoholic,” Terezi shrugs.</p><p>“It’s not the same.”</p><p>“I suppose not,” Terezi says, “so, seventeen. You like music?”</p><p>“Are there people who don’t like music?” Gigi asks.</p><p>“You know what I’m asking,” Terezi says.</p><p>“I like a lot of Hospital Bracelet and Pigeon Pit and stuff like that. You know it?” </p><p>“Not really,” Terezi admits.</p><p>“I’ll write you a list. You can have your roommate make you a playlist when you get out of here,” Gigi offers.</p><p>“That would be nice,” Terezi smiles.</p><p>“You can give me recs too. As you remember them, I mean. And I’ll write them down,” Gigi says.</p><p>“That would be nice,” Terezi nods.</p><p>“Cool. I’m always looking for new music,” Gigi sits back down on her bed, “do you smoke?”</p><p>“No,” Terezi says. Gigi laughs.</p><p>“They’re gonna eat you alive.”</p><p>It’s gonna be an interesting six weeks.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So can I have any closure?<br/>A broken bone<br/>A lone window pane and maybe I am a loner<br/>And can I get sober?<br/>A broken home, a long night of shame<br/>And I'll pretend that it won't hurt<br/>-Sober Haha JK Unless by Hospital Bracelet</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Swim Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Terezi’s first night at the facility is largely uneventful. The events blur together. In place of the serenity prayer, there are slogans and chants said at the beginning and sometimes the end of every meeting. Keep coming back, it works if you work it. One day at a time. Live and let live. Terezi probably says them each about twenty times throughout the day. The bed is comfortable, but Terezi hardly sleeps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She keeps waking up, trying to go back to sleep, and sleeping hard when she finally manages. When she wakes up and feels the faint warmth of sunlight, she knows it’s pointless. She picks up her cane and feels her way to the bathroom. She swears when she misses the doorway by a little bit, hitting her shoulder. God, she misses Pyralspite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once inside, she locks the door, turns on the sink, and sobs. Dry sobs. They’re real though, and she needs to let them out. Eventually, she hears someone knocking. Terezi turns off the sink and opens the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mornin’,” Gigi chirps, “we have ten minutes to get to the dining hall, if you wanna get dressed and brush your teeth and stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already got dressed,” Gigi adds, “behind the armoire. Figured you were gonna be a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Terezi says again, “would you pass me my jeans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Gigi shrugs, and does as she’s asked. When she closes the door again, Terezi feels a single tear cascade down her cheek. She wipes it away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dining hall is a serve yourself situation, Gigi explains to her. There are large containers of cereal, ones that you open a window and scoop it out like trail mix at the grocery store. And there’s every kind of meat. There are eggs, too, and bacon. Gigi doesn’t like serving herself the regular breakfast stuff, though. Germs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of cereal do you like?” Gigi asks. Terezi struggles to remember a time when she ate cereal. She’s sure she has, in recent memory even. But she just eats what Dave eats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind do you?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fruity pebbles,” Gigi answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those sound fine,” Terezi follows her to the cereal, trailing her perfume like a cartoon character.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“These things can be a pain in the ass to work. Heavy. I can help you, if you want,” Gigi offers. Terezi is almost taken aback by the offer of help as opposed to the demeaning force of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, thanks,” Terezi smiles at her. When they eat, Terezi pretends not to notice Gigi shaking the whole table with her body.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bobby is the one to meet Terezi at the dining hall, leading her back to her office with a little red notebook at her side. Terezi swaggers while she walks like she’s got control over everything. Bobby reminds her that she controls nothing with her first question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you speak at all at group yesterday?” Bobby asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You either did or you didn’t,” Bobby clicks her pen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, I didn’t,” a more accurate description of the situation would be that Terezi sat in that group with her jaw so clamped shut that she could feel her teeth grinding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why is that?” Bobby asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn’t think of what to say,” Terezi tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yesterday’s group was about hurting people while using,” Bobby says, “you couldn’t think of anything to say about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Terezi’s mouth twitches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to be major sharing,” Bobby assures her, “you could so much as introduce yourself and tell someone if their words spoke to something in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Terezi shuffles, “I’m not very good at that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At what, exactly?” Bobby asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The whole group therapy thing,” Terezi answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about one on one therapy?” Bobby asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More of the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well can you articulate for me why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess,” Terezi sighs, “I don’t...know how to talk about myself. The way I feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know how or you don’t like to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to answer that question,” Terezi fusses with the loops on her belt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then I guess I know why AA isn’t working for you,” Bobby observes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi doesn’t reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t do AA,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Terezi replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you tried?” Bobby asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi has. She recalls one particular instance in which she was trying so, so hard to make it work, and she tore through the material of the couch with her fingernails in annoyance when one man referred to his ex wife and her partner as dykes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Terezi answers, “doesn’t work for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The program can be...difficult to work with for some,” Bobby admits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can tell Bobby is uncomfortable, and she finds it oddly cathartic. If both of them are uncomfortable, the playing field is leveled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you don’t have a sponsor,” Bobby continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know anyone else who is sober?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi’s mouth twitches again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess...I guess that I do. But she hasn’t been sober any longer than I had. And she’s not talking to me right now,” Terezi explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone else?” Bobby asks, “How about Roxanne?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Roxy?” Terezi perks up, “Well, she sponsors Rose. Sorry, Rose is-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her little sister, I remember,” Bobby says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was gonna say my best friend,” Terezi corrects, a little sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can sponsor multiple people. You should ask her,” it’s a suggestion, but Terezi feels like she has little say, “and you can call her whenever you feel like drinking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And...say what, exactly?” Terezi folds her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell her that you feel like drinking and why,” Bobby elaborates, “she’ll talk you down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See, that’s back to those feelings I don’t talk about,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi,” Bobby sounds exasperated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rez,” Terezi corrects. Bobby makes a noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have an idea,” she says finally, “when did you have your last drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Technically…” Terezi pauses, “on the way here. Mouthwash before I left the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t have to count if you don’t want,” Bobby tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was on purpose,” Terezi specifies, “go on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, by peer evaluation, you will have had 24 hours of sobriety, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so,” Terezi shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do chips,” she continues, “like they do in AA. And, well, since you refuse to speak otherwise,  which is fine, I want you to tell your story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi feels like she might be sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My story?” she stammers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to tell us, in as much detail as you feel like, why you started drinking, when, what feelings you had, why, et cetera,” Bobby continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I dunno,” Terezi laughs nervously, “you think that might make me express my feelings more if I had to talk to a full crowd of people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what group therapy </span>
  <em>
    <span>is,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bobby points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi makes a noise like she’s being strangled. Bobby looks at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want this to work, right?” Bobby asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to make amends with your friend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do right by yourself and stay sober?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Terezi answers reluctantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then you need to take this seriously,” she says, “what do we say at the end of meetings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep coming back, it works if you work it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Bobby smiles, “it’s one of our millions of terms we use. They may seem obnoxious at times, but that one is my favorite. It’s true. It works if you work it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Terezi doesn’t mean it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Meaning that the program is only beneficial to you so long as you are willing to work with the program. Keep coming back, yes. But working the steps is even more crucial,” Bobby says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi is more than a little annoyed. Bobby registers this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To make it easier to understand, if you don’t want to follow the rules, do the steps, make an effort, I’d like you to leave, and stop wasting my time. Do I make myself clear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi considers her words carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. So, would you like to take the opportunity to share your story?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, ma’am,” Terezi repeats. Her cheeks feel hot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Let me just finish writing this down, and then we can go on a walk, ok?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It almost slipped Terezi’s mind that this woman was writing down notes. She nods, </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Terezi spends a couple hours lost in thought, trying to consider what she’s going to say and failing. At two, she considers who she might want to call, and comes up blank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She, of course, calls Dave and Rose. Rose doesn’t answer, but Dave picks up. He doesn’t say much other than he’s proud of her. She thanks him. She considers calling Meulin, but Meulin would have some sort of meltdown, she’s sure. She sighs, knowing she doesn’t have a lot of time left, and she wants to have a conversation with someone that lasts longer than two minutes. She sighs as she makes her way down the imaginary list, knowing there’s only one person left to call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s not gonna answer, she thinks as she dials. The dial tone trills forever, and Terezi is just about to give up when she hears a voice on the other end of the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, shithead. How’s rehab?” Vriska greets her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Terezi perks up, “Hi!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound too surprised for the person who made the phone call,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well uh,” Terezi clears her throat, “I wasn’t expecting you to pick up is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t gonna,” Vriska explains, “but, you know, even when your best friend is being a jackass, you answer the phone when they call from rehab.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you just call me your best friend?” Terezi’s clicks her jaw. It was a nervous tick when she was a kid. It comes back every time she tries to get sober.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I mean, besides Aradia,” Vriska pauses, “that’s not weird, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well-” Terezi starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I know we haven’t known each other for too long. What’s it been, a couple months?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just about,” Terezi answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But we get lunch and we call each other when we need anything and well, you talk me down,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to explain yourself,” Terezi tells her, and it comes out a little less supportive and a little more scolding, “I mean, you’re one of my best friends, too, I think. It’s just weird to hear that now, after a fight while I’m in rehab.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well,” Vriska laughs, “anyway. Your friend had died. I’m sorry for being so needy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m sorry. For promising to be there for you and not delivering.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were grieving,” Vriska says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still am. But I shouldn’t have yelled at you the way I did,” Terezi hopes Vriska can’t hear her jaw clicking. She needs to get this thing fixed. It sounds grotesque.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truce?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truce,” Terezi nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you still haven’t answered my question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s rehab, shithead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s fucking paradise,” Terezi says, “I’m up to my ass in gummy worms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I even want to fucking know what that means?” Vriska raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means my roommate is a meth addict and I’m an alcoholic and between the two of us, our sugar intake is goddamn nuts,” Terezi explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” Vriska clicks her tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also, I have to tell my entire life story in front of a bunch of strangers today,” Terezi blurts it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska laughs. It’s a mean laugh. It hurts Terezi’s feelings a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Vriska says, “I didn’t mean to laugh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t deserve that,” Vriska continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is untrue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S’fine. I just don’t know what I’m gonna say. Where I’m gonna start,” Terezi runs her hand through her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus. Yeah,” Vriska replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It goes silent for a couple of seconds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, listen, I think I’m gonna go,” Vriska says, “I’ve got a...date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A date?” She repeats, “That’s great! Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve met Aradia, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, wow,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, we’re, this is actually our first official date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool,” Terezi nods, “well, you should probably go. I think I’m holding up the line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Later,” Vriska says, sounding preoccupied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later,” Terezi echoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Terezi’s ear hurts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Call me again, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not like every day, or anything, but, you know, you can call me,” Vriska insists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pauses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Terezi agrees, “okay. I’ll call you.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“What the hell am I gonna say?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, you’re supposed to speak in twenty minutes,” Gigi scolds her, not looking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that!” Terezi groans, “I just, I don’t know what to say. Technically I had my first drink when I was thirteen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thirteen?” That makes Gigi look up, “That’s kind of depressing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geej, you’re scrubbing the bathroom of a rehab center,” Terezi points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you don’t have to do chores, that doesn’t mean that you get to make fun of the ones the rest of us have to do,” Gigi tries to flush the toilet. The water is rising, “jesus.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right, lucky me, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>get</span>
  </em>
  <span> to not do chores,” Terezi gestures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only sound for a minute is the sound of the hand dryer going off on its own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Gigi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, me too,” Terezi replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” Gigi holds out her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gigi,” Terezi says, “I’m not going to hug you while you’re holding a toilet plunger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Gigi sighs, “Anyway, it’s not always about your first time using,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what the hell </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> it about?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I started using freshman year,” Gigi says, “but before that, my parents got divorced, my brother went to jail, We have roots. It’s your job to find yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Figure it out,” Gigi offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Terezi folds her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus fuck, whoever clogged this toilet had better graduate today. It’s the same person every time, I swear to god it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi laughs.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It’s not long into peer evaluation that Terezi hears her name called. She stands, her hand shaking. She reminds herself to breathe. If she doesn’t, she could disrupt her breathing pattern. Great, now she’s thinking about it, now she’s breathing consciously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gigi guides her to the podium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, Bobby clears her throat, “Terezi is twenty-four hours sober.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hushed claps from the audience. Gigi doesn’t clap, at least not with sound, she might be faking it, but Terezi doesn’t mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t do this often, as some of you kow, but I’ve asked her to come up here and tell her story,” Bobby continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi leans forward towards the microphone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Terezi says. She can feel her hands shaking, so she grabs the podium, “hi, I’m Rez, I’m twenty one, and I’m an alcoholic. I guess...the best place to start is the beginning of the road to ruin, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nobody answers her. She’s speaking, of course not. God, this is fucking terrifying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My dad was the first person I lost,” Terezi’s jaw is clicking again, “he died when I was little. I don’t remember him much, but I remember him more than I let on. I wish I remembered him more. Watching baseball with him, though, that I can recall. And you know, I know he was a good dad. My mom talked about it all the time. But he died. Alcohol poisoning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She freezes. She’s never said that part out loud before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, I guess, I’ve always known this thing was in my bones,” she continues, “but the first loss I felt, the first time I really grieved, was two years later when my sister passed away. She was eighteen years older than me, and she didn’t live at home. But I can still remember, you know, realizing she wasn’t coming back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drums her fingers on the podium.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had my first drink when I was thirteen. One of my friends was invited to a highschool party. I joined. Watered down beer. I didn’t get drunk, though, but I did throw up. I remember thinking, god, why do people do this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a few small chuckles from the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t until my mom died that it started being a thing. I got drunk the day after her funeral, and if Meulin, my guardian, noticed, she didn’t say anything. And the thing about death is it brings shit back up. I was fifteen. My parents were dead. My sister was dead. I had friends, but they couldn’t keep up with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spent a lot of the time at the hospital. Sometimes it was me, sometimes it was my mom, sometimes it was my best friend. Those last couple of years, there were a lot of photos of me in the hospital. So, you know, the next time Dave, that’s my friend’s name, Dave, was in the hospital, I got so smashed that I blacked out. And that became a routine of mine. Any time that I had something going on I didn’t like, I was out. And then it was every day. It started so small, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She clears her throat.</span>
</p><p><span>“I don’t remember a lot of high school, because of my disease. Getting drunk at parties to loosen up isn’t a big deal, right? Maybe not for regular people. I was fun at parties, I guess, but it’s all worthless to me. I don’t remember it. I don’t remember parties, I don’t remember school, I don’t remember starting fights with people I got suspended for.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“What I do remember was opening my eyes. without my eyesight. Sharp blow to the back of the head was what did it. At this point I was like you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Like, this can’t be my life. And it only got worse. I was screaming at people. I put my steel toe boot through the wall, once.”</span></p><p>
  <span>She kisses her teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My breaking point, the thing that made me interested in this sobriety shit to begin with, interested enough to actually make an effort with it, is because of a fight I got into with my best friend. I said some awful things that I didn’t mean because she did something inconsiderate. And had I been more mature, I could have made amends. I didn’t get that chance” she lowers her voice, “I didn’t get that chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mechanical whir of the air conditioning turning the whole room into a human bowl of hagen-daaz is starting to get on her nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, you know, that’s her. It’s funny. Well, I mean, it’s horrible, but it’s funny in sort of a twisted way. Having that falling out was what caused my sobriety, and losing her was what caused my relapse,” she can sense the confusion, “I buried her last week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands there very pointedly waiting for Bobby to tackle her, or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all,” she adds, “that’s my story.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other addicts clap for her. She feels less heavy than she did before. Bobby congratulates her and gives Terezi her twenty-four hour chip, a large silver coin. Terezi traces the number on it with her fingers compulsively.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>It’s almost the end of her shift when Bobby gets a knock on her office door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” she says. She’s grateful for the knock. Not everyone thinks to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Terezi says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rez,” Bobby greets, “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you on getting your chip.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No worries,” Terezi shrugs, “thirty days is nothing to write home about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing it again,” Bobby warns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Terezi raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minimizing your accomplishments,” Bobby answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” Terezi rolls her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you wanted to speak to me about something?” Bobby sets down whatever she was holding and sits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” Terezi clears her throat, “I wanted to thank you. For pushing me to share my story that night, I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s helped you?” Bobby smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than you could ever know. If you know that everyone has to talk and share their experiences, well…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s easier to not get embarrassed when you do,” Bobby finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly,” Terezi nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do encourage you to seek a support group,” Bobby adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have one! That’s what I wanted to tell you about,” Terezi’s voice is louder than she means it to be often, like she’s always being slightly argumentative.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I thought that you said you didn’t like AA?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Terezi begins walking back and forth across the office, “see, a couple of months ago, my best friend began this support group for people living with disabilities and chronic illnesses. And she told me I had to do it, and I wouldn’t listen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume your friend had the same kind of trouble that I did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! The irony isn’t lost on me, I swear. And I tried. I really did </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do the whole thing, that’s what makes the whole thing so damn shitty. I was really really trying. And it didn’t seem like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you weren’t talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I wasn’t talking,” Terezi echoes, “but it wasn’t like I never talked. I just talked once in a while, and I thought to myself that if I talked that night, I was good for a few weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Terezi,” Bobby tilts her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know! I know,” Terezi’s voice boasts like a laugh, like she’s telling a funny story. It makes Bobby worry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything Terezi does makes her worry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But the thing is, when my whole story was like, out there, it was easier. Because people knew the jist, it felt less like cutting my soul open. It was like I was a regular person and not a charity case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just described a support group,” Bobby points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi freezes in her tracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it does,” she smiles as she starts walking again, “and I was wondering what your thoughts are on me airing out my dirty laundry there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are there other addicts in the group?” Bobby asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Terezi nods again, “Rose, Karkat-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Karkat?” Bobby mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’ll call Roxy at least twice a week. Assuming that she accepts the role of sponsor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t asked her?” Bobby’s pitch matches Terezi’s now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not like I’m on that big of a time crunch in here,” Terezi replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a big decision,” Bobby tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your assignment tomorrow. I want you to ask Roxy,” Bobby instructs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Terezi says, “yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, assuming you participate in this support group as well as you have here, and assuming you call your sponsor, whoever they may be, at least twice a week, I think it’s a great idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have your blessing?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m your counselor. Not your in-law,” Bobby points out, “you’re gonna wear a hole in the carpet, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Terezi stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, these carpets are ugly,” Bobby assures her, “I’ve been dying to get them replaced.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna go to bed,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good choice,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi leaves her office. Bobby shakes her head. This girl is gonna kill her. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In seven years time, I will wake up and sigh<br/>Every cell in my body has died<br/>And I will make tea and build myself a fire<br/>And examine my work with pride<br/>-Sunday Song by Pom Pom Squad</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. New Beginnings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s on Gigi’s last night that Terezi notices that she is quiet. Not relaxed quiet, either. She’s clenched, like a fist. Terezi tries to ask her what’s wrong, but it comes out garbled and not the way Terezi intended to say it, so Gigi insists she’s fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She decides that what is in order is to bring Gigi extra food. You’re not supposed to do that, take food into the rooms. but Bobby doesn’t really care. It’s a strange gesture, she tells herself as she walks down the hallway with the seran-wrapped food clutched in her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she says, holding up her olive branch in the form of a chicken salad sandwich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Gigi looks at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I brought you a sandwich,” Terezi blurts it out, extending her arm into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Gigi says, “I was confused, because usually you get peanut butter and jelly. But I guess, because the sandwich is for me-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came to cheer you up,” Terezi adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing a fantastic job,” Gigi snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it’s weird of me to bring you this. And we haven’t known each other long, but I wanted you to know that I’m here. You know, if you want to talk,” Terezi adds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gigi stares at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You trying to bribe my friendship, Pyrope?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think,” It occurs to Terezi that Gigi is teasing, “yeah. Your friendship is worth a free sandwich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re definitely overvaluing it,” Gigi takes the sandwich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you’re upset over,” Terezi gestures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. It’s not a big deal,” Gigi shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t say that in a rehab center. It’s almost never true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gigi opens the wrapper to the sandwich. It fills the air with the scent of cellophane. Terezi swears to god it changes the taste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It goes silent for a minute while Gigi eats her sandwich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Gigi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask you something?” she’s still chewing. Terezi doesn’t have the energy to be disgusted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Before you relapsed, you had nine months, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she squeaks out. She knows what the question is going to be. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So, why did you give up your sobriety? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Which roughly translates as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why did you throw your life away voluntarily?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna know, if it’s okay, what made you quit,” Gigi continues, “you know, when you got here, it was because you had nowhere else to go. But before that. Nine months is a lot. So, what was the breaking point that made you realize you wanted to be sober?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi’s jaw goes slack. Well, that’s a new one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ve thought about that in a long time,” this is by design.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Gigi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s ok,” she thinks on it for a long time, “I’ll tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Gigi nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The reason I started drinking, well, the reason it got as bad as it did, was because my family had fallen apart. My parents were dead, my sister, too. For a long time, the only people I had were Dave and Nepeta.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi still flinches when she says her name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it wasn’t like they didn’t experience shit with me,” she continues, “Dave loved my mom. Nepeta was over at our house more than she was over at hers. But going through it, even with other people, I still felt so lonely. And I shut myself off, and I started drinking. I knew it was a problem pretty soon. I kept trying, and trying, and trying to quit. And Rose, when I met her, she was trying to quit too. It was the first time I had a friend who was also an addict. Who also lost relatives to that disease.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that helped?” Gigi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It did, I think. But the breaking point, the thing that made me stick with it for so long, was being alone too long. I had a roommate before Dave and Rose. Nicole. And she was never around. Which is how I kept falling back into it, you know? I felt like there was something missing from my life, it just made me remember how miserable and lonely I was. I lost a lot of friends that way. Nepeta, most of the people who didn’t hate me in high school, and most financially relevant, Nicole.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gigi looks down at her shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, there I was, without a roommate, told I had to find a new person to live with by the end of the lease, and Dave happened to have a couch to crash on,” she sighs, “and after that, I continued falling into the shit for a little while. Maybe six months.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi takes a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But one night, I caught Rose crying in the kitchen. And she asked me to sit with her. And I did. And she told me that she couldn’t handle being alone right now. And then we just sort of never left each other alone. We were completely codependent, that’s why our relationship fell apart, because if one of us split off, both of us would end up drinking and it would be all for naught. Lot of pressure to put on a relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She runs her fingers through her hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when we started being able to be alone again, she was always encouraging me to join her at these support groups. Not just for sobriety. For orphans, for chronic illnesses, disabilities. The works. And none of them worked for me. But then she started her own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gigi puts down the sandwich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This living room project where all our friends came over and talked about, you know, everything. And I promised her that I was going to try to make it work and try to commit. And that’s what I thought I was doing. But it wasn’t. Instead of talking through the shit, I shut myself off again. And then, before you know it, I walked out of the grocery store with a six pack of beers in my hand. Yada yada yada, here we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gigi takes it in for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” she finally says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Terezi nods, “damn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, this talking about it thing. This support system thing. It really works, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Results may vary,” Terezi shrugs, “but, you know, I seem to fuck up less when I don’t lock myself in a room and tell everyone to fuck off like an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds right,” Gigi sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you...okay?” Terezi asks, “I mean, I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me what’s up, I just wanna make sure you’re like, gonna be alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“People keep asking me that,” Gigi sounds a little annoyed, “I never know what to say. I’ve got shit going on, really awful shit. Some of it’s gonna get worse. But right now? I’m sitting on the floor eating a free sandwich and getting ready for Dawson’s Creek to come on. It varies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Terezi nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s silent again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I’m not okay,” she sighs, “and not that I really feel like talking about it, but since hearing your shit, maybe not talking about it is worse for me, I dunno.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a few shallow, shaky breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my parents,” she finally says, “they think it’s better if for now I...don’t come home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Terezi blinks in her direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a big deal,” Gigi assures her, “I have a friend who wants me to stay with her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having a place to stay doesn’t make it not a big deal, Gigi,” Terezi points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she grabs her sandwich again, “not like we were ever really close or anything, or like they weren’t the reason I started using in the first place. But it does suck. I kept waiting around for them to be like parents on TV, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi doesn’t know, not exactly. But she feels the sentiment in her bones. She nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll fight them for you,” she offers. Gigi laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna brush my teeth and go to bed,” Gigi finishes her sandwich, “I’m probably gonna be gone by the time you wake up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Terezi stands, “Well, thanks. For keeping me company and everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Gigi nods, “you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me,” she adds, “you know, if you need anyone to talk to or anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” she stares at Terezi, “would it be weird if i hugged you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Terezi smiles, and opens her arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good luck,” Gigi says, her voice low.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too,” Terezi replies, and Gigi hugs her tighter.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When Terezi is finally discharged from rehab, it’s Rose that picks her up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you got your license,” Terezi greets her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I took my test just last week,” Rose explains.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for picking me up."
</span></p><p>
  <span>“Just get in the car,” Rose says. She’s not trying to be mean or anything. Just to the point. Terezi climbs in, putting her suitcase in the backseat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose waits for her to buckle in and starts the car. They’re about ten minutes into the drive before either of them says anything again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to drive me home,” Terezi says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a really shitty way to thank someone, Rez,” Rose points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. I just mean-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know what you mean,” Rose activates the turn signal, “we’re good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to be,” Terezi tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Rose narrows her eyes, “Just because you wanna keep wallowing around in your own guilt-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said horrible things to you,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not a new development,” Rose says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t speak to me for four months once because I-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember what happened,” Rose remarks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Terezi sighs, “but why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t said anything worse. Not even to Nepeta. Not to anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi,” Rose repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s because I was drunk when I said them-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if you’re trying to excuse me out of guilt or loyalty-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An addict alone,” she references the only thing ever stated in AA that Rose did not immediately detest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is in bad company,” Terezi replies, reflexively, “thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t thank me,” Rose scolds, “I want to be friends again, but that doesn’t mean I’m done being pissed at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I earned it,” Terezi shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad we got that cleared up,” Rose says, “when we get home, I expect you to help me unpack, by the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not moving out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was my apartment first,” Rose points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Terezi nods, “but you hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” Rose pauses, “I’ll get over it, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to. Forgiveness or whatever. But that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I was capable of hating you for the rest of my life, I would have stopped forgiving you long before this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Terezi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Terezi sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose takes her hand and squeezes it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I say one last thing?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not about to propose, are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not in this outfit,” Terezi says, and Rose laughs, “no. I wanted to tell you something. Something about what I said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, jeez, Terezi,” Rose takes her hand away, “I told you, you don’t need to apologize. I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just let me say it. Just once. And then I won’t bring it up ever again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose considers this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Deal,” she finally agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The year I was born, my sister was in a car accident. And obviously, I never knew her before, but,” Terezi can feel a lump form in her throat, “my mom used to tell me that she wasn’t really the same after that. She was on Vicodin for the pain. And after my dad died, she just sorta never stopped. She...overdosed a couple of times. I remember just...sitting outside of the room and listening to my mom and Latula fight because Latula was doing stuff she wasn’t supposed to and doesn’t she know that’s how her dad died?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose furrows her brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But she always recovered,” Terezi’s eyes sting, “until, she didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose can hear her start to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I know that’s not much of an excuse. But what I said. About you. About your mom. Was just me mad at myself. You need to know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were six,” is all Rose can think to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but, if I was older, maybe I could have helped,” Terezi’s breathing is shallow, “people keep...dying around me. And I could have helped them. If I was old enough to when they were in trouble, I mean. That’s what I’ve always told myself, anyway. And then Nepeta proved that sentiment wrong. Because I was old enough. And I knew I was abandoning her, and I did it anyway. I knew she needed me. And I knew she was trying to get back into contact with me to fix shit. And I didn’t let her. And I threw that in your face.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not.” Terezi replies, “none of the stuff that I’ve done that you’ve let me off the hook for is okay. Which is why…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She trails off. Then silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is why?” Rose asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m moving out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose’s face falls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Terezi-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You guys have been so good to me. You’ve always taken care of me. And as a result, we’ve become completely fucking codependant. Me mostly. I don’t know how to be by myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t be by yourself right now,” Rose points out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t known how to be by myself in a long time though. And...we hinged our recoveries on each other. All I could think about when I got here was the fact our sobriety has been in sync and how awful I would feel if you lost your anchor and relapsed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But did you think about it?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose takes a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did,” she admits, “a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Rose echoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’m gonna do the group therapy. I’m really gonna do it this time. Throw myself into it,” she continues, “no more acting like I will and not following through. That’s over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Rose sighs, “good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I wrote some letters for you and Dave,” she adds, “well, sorta. I talked. My friend Gigi wrote. You guys have to wait until I go to bed to read them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they get home, Dave is pacing the apartment, wheeling his oxygen tank on a skateboard as to not disrupt his movement. The door isn’t even all the way open before he hugs Terezi.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” he says, “so fucking much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you too,” Terezi sets down her bag and tosses aside her cane to hug him back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This place has been so empty without you both. I mean, Pyralspite is sweet and all, but she mostly lies down and stares at the wall,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s my puppy, speaking of?” Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s with Roxy,” Dave explains, “I figured you were tired and you were gonna want to go right to bed. So, it just made sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You figured correctly,” Terezi says, releasing him, “I’m gonna go to bed. But I love you guys. So, so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hands them their letters, each written on beat-up journal pages ripped poorly out of the notebook and not in envelopes, and promptly heads to her room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sleeps well.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“So, you dropped it on them, just like that?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know when the right time to say it would be and we were already talking about heavy shit, I dunno,” Terezi shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you did the right thing,” Aradia chimes in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Terezi says, “they’re gonna let me stay with them until I find a new place to live. And this isn’t gonna be permanent. At least, I hope not. I just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Need some time to figure yourself out,” Aradia finishes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Terezi nods, “so, I’m having Kanaya help me look through apartment listings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just hope you don’t end up living with someone you don’t like,” Aradia stirs her pad thai with her fork.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Terezi agrees.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Vriska exclaims.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two perk up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you just move in with me?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to. If you don’t want to, I mean. But you need a place to stay, I have a spare room, you already like me,” Vriska lists, “or, at least, I assume you do. Otherwise, you just let me think you like me so that I buy you food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I like you,” Terezi eats another bite of her brussel sprouts, “but it’s one thing to like you out in the wild. It’s another thing entirely to live together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She has a point. The things you do that get on my nerves when we live together are completely different than the ones that get on my nerves when we don’t,” Aradia nods wisely, “she watches a lot of wrestling, and she has so many teddy bears that her bed is actively impossible to sleep on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do any of those things affect me?”  Terezi asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just might be perfect together,” Aradia sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Terezi pauses, “I guess, if it doesn’t work out, I won’t be on the lease for a little while, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lease expires in four months,” Vriska answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Terezi sets down her fork and reaches her hand out, “let’s do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vriska grins and shakes her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That settles the where,” Aradia says, “how about the when?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Terezi furrows her brow, “I mean, I probably shouldn’t get too used to being back at the apartment. Maybe, for Pyralspite’s sake, a couple of weeks? If that’s cool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s cool,” Vriska snaps open a fortune cookie with her teeth and sprays crumbs in her eye, “AGH!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, jeez,” Aradia rolls her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to fucking die!” Vriska howls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not gonna die. Come here, you big baby,” Aradia leans in and examines her girlfriend’s eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My good eye has been damaged by a stale cookie!” Vriska retorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s something wrong with you,” Aradia groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi smiles. They really are a cute couple, she thinks.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Hey!” Aranea greets into the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” Vriska replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you were gonna call me today,” Aranea says, “I don’t really have a lot of time to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine. I just had a question,” Vriska tells her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A question?” Aranea repeats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just something I’ve been thinking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of them stay silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well?” Aranea asks, glancing at the clock on the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Vriska sighs, “okay, well, you knew about mom’s trial when it was happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Aranea responds, suddenly a bit nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But when we first met,” Vriska pauses, “I brought up her trial and you acted like you had no idea what I was talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aranea doesn’t reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aranea?” Vriska asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m still here,” she sighs, “and I really didn’t know it was the aggravated battery that did her in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you knew when it was, and that it was happening. And you acted like you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vriska,” Aranea shuts her eyes, “shit. I don’t know what to say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Use your imagination,” Vriska suggests.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Aranea nods, hesitantly, “I didn’t tell you I knew.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I got that part.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I knew that if I did tell you, you’d have questions. Questions a lot like the ones you asked when you visited me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to know I’m so ashamed of myself for not having the stable environment that you needed. Had I stayed with Mom for a little while longer, I could have gotten my degree. Saved up for a house. Gotten a good job. I’ll never forgive myself for saying no to things that would have helped me in the long run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aranea,” Vriska sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I've really gotta head to work. I wanna address this, I do, but I’m gonna be late,” she says, “but I love you, kiddo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, have a good day,” it feels lame to say that, but she’s still not ready to use the l word on her sister. They hang up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s got a notification for a text from Aradia, asking about meeting up for dinner. Vriska doesn’t really feel like she can eat, and that’s what she tells Aradia. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you still have these,” Rose smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t see which CDs you’re holding,” Terezi points out, shoving her clothes into a plastic garbage bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tegan and Sara? Twenty-one pilots?  The Story So Far? Demi Lovato? Mindless Self Indulgence? Orianthi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t come after my Orianthi!” Terezi instructs sternly, “And everyone was listening to that shit in 2013.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“White people, maybe,” Rose snorts, “oh my god. Oh my god. Celene Dion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re officially off CD duty,” Terezi hands her the garbage bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, fair, I just...Celene Dion?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got really into her after my Titanic phase, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, your Titanic phase?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can ask Dave for all the embarrassing details </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’ve already moved,” Terezi offers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rose goes silent. She just keeps putting CDs into the box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was uncalled for,” Terezi says, “I know we’re really not talking about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I know you’re moving out, that’s how I ended up helping you pack,” Rose points out, “I mean, did I expect to have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> more time with you before you moved? Sure. Was I expecting you to find somewhere to go so quickly? No. But it’s really not a big deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terezi sits down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, I can stay for a little longer. If you want me to. It’s not like Vriska has a thousand roommate candidates lined up to take my place if I don’t jump at the offer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Rose sighs, “this is really important to you. And if you stay just for my benefit, a few weeks is gonna turn into a few months and then we’re back where we started.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s probably a good point,” Terezi nods, “but I’ll visit. A lot. Too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d better,” Rose looks down, “holy shit. Holy shit what are you doing with Semisonic CDs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give them!” Terezi demands.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Closing time, one last call for alcohol<br/>So finish your whiskey or beer<br/>Closing time, you don't have to go home<br/>But you can't stay here.<br/>-Closing Time by Semisonic</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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